


Coalescence

by spaycesickle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Awkwardness, Bromance, Character Relationships, Drama, Gen, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 54,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaycesickle/pseuds/spaycesickle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam lives. Now comes the hard part. AU from 4x19: Jump the Shark. Genfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Divergence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: ‘Supernatural’ is the property of Warner Brothers, the CW, and other associated parties. I claim no ownership of the franchise, characters or settings, nor am I affiliated with the above parties in any way. The following is a fan-work, written for my amusement, and not for material or monetary gain. Please support the official releases. (I don’t own this).
> 
> WARNINGS: Profanity, Spoilers for Supernatural series 1 through 5, and possibly 6 through 9, if I decide to carry this on that far- I really haven’t decided yet.
> 
> Summary: Adam lives. Now comes the hard part. AU from 4x19: Jump the Shark. Genfic.
> 
> *Chronology note: While I'm generally going off of this awesome timeline, composed by hells-half-acre on LJ [ http://hells-half-acre.livejournal.com/15110.html ], for the purposes of this fanfic, I've pushed the boys finding out about Adam from mid-April, back to mid-February. This means, that for the purposes of this fanfic, the episode Jump the Shark takes place BEFORE 'It's a Terrible Life' (4 x 17) and 'The Monster at the End of this Book' (4 x 18)*

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**Coalescence**

**Chapter 1: Divergence**  

\+ + +

  

He’d heard it as soon as he’d found himself trapped in the hidden area of the crypt; the whisper of a shaken breath and a broken, dry sob. Dean’s gun arm was up again as he paused, green eyes narrowed in concentration as he scanned the darkened room. Monsters were getting smarter- and it wouldn’t be the first time something from ‘beyond the grave’ would have tried such a trick to get a hunter to lower his guard. His lip curled in distaste. Whatever trick this thing was trying, it wouldn’t be working today. 

“Hello?” 

Though he wouldn’t mind drawing the sucker to him.

There was silence. 

Nothing for it, then. Letting out a slow breath, Dean crept further into the room, flashlight shining into every dark crevice a freak could possibly hide in.

He kicked past one of the many skeletons that were littering the floor. Something had definitely been having a party in here- the bones looked like they’d been pulled from coffins and picked clean.

 _Hunh._

There it was again. He angled the flashlight to the left, past tombs that had clearly been opened and emptied, and to the side where a few more coffins were lying flat, just waiting to be opened. Red stained one of them, and Dean tentatively ran a finger over it. It wasn’t completely dry. 

Right.

He cracked the tomb open, swearing when the flashlight came to shine on the face of none other than Kate Milligan. Most of her, anyway. Pointing the light further down her body showed a jumble of entrails ripping messily out of her severed belly. Swallowing, and shining the flashlight back up to her face, her eyes were glassy, and Dean let out a quick breath. There was nothing he could do for her. _Damnit._  

 _Hunh. Thud._  

There it was, the muffled noise again, this time accompanied by a light bang. There was another coffin right next to Kate’s. Surveying the room behind him once again to make sure it was still clear, Dean turned his attention to the other box. Whatever was making that noise was in there. 

He broke the top off, prepared for the worst. The lid splintered as Dean lifted it off, a flimsy layer of dust kicking up and making his eye sting. He really wasn’t prepared for what he saw. 

“Whu- _Adam?_ ”

The kid trembled, inching back from him, as far as the coffin would allow. Not far at all. 

“P-Please...” 

He was thin, his skin yellowing and dirty. He made no move to lunge forward, instead trying to curl in on himself, and Dean stared down at him warily. This wasn’t Adam. Couldn’t be. Adam was fine, safe at home and being guarded by Sam. Shifter? If not, then what? What was the point in this? It looked half dead. 

“What the hell _is_ this?”

Gun still trained on the body, Dean reached for the flask of holy water at his hip. He bought it up, unscrewing the lid with his teeth, and splashed some of the liquid inside onto the near corpse of a kid. He flinched, but there was no smoke. 

“Hey.”

The kid whimpered, and Dean pulled out his silver knife, tucking his gun back into its holster. He pulled the kid’s arm out- (“S-Stop...”), ready to scratch him with the knife, but stopped short at the mess.

Strips of flesh- real flesh, not the rubbery Shifter imitation of it- were missing from his arm, and the closer Dean looked, the more apparent it became that his shirt and jeans were soaked in blood and other bodily fluids. 

This... this _was_ Adam. He was too far gone to be some monster trick.

There was Kate’s remains, the corpses that looked like they had been ripped open and picked clean, and now Adam, and the ‘Adam’ that had been cosying up to them over the past couple of days. This was looking more and more like- 

“Damnit- _ghouls?_ ”   

But ghouls usually fed on corpses- scavenging off of the dead and taking the form of the last person who was unfortunate enough to make it as their happy meal. Adam was in bad shape, but he wasn’t _dead._

Dean slipped the knife back into his belt and reached for Adam, anger rushing through his veins at the state of him. Cuts peppered his body, blood, tears and snot had all evidently run down his face at some point, and from what Dean was seeing, the tears had just started again. His eyes were barely open, but Dean could read the fear in them. 

“D-Don’t-” 

The ghoul had been feeding on Adam while he was still alive. _Son of a bitch._

Adam wasn’t dead, but judging by the blood soaking his clothes, he wasn’t far from it. 

And Sam was alone with a ghoul who was having fun playing happy families for however long it took before it could get a knife in his back. 

Dean grit his teeth.

“Adam.” 

He was trembling, words tumbling out of his mouth, broken but fast- _pl-pleasedon’tpleasedon’t-don’t-_

“Adam! Hey-” 

He grabbed at Adam from under the armpits and dragged him out of the coffin. If the fast-paced breathing was anything to go by, the kid was on the verge of a panic attack. Dean set Adam down, leaning him against one of the walls.

“Hey. Hey.” Dean snapped his fingers in front of Adam’s face a few times, trying to get his attention. “Adam. Listen to me. You’re gonna be fine- I’m getting you out. I’ll get you help. I need you to hold still while I try plug the bleeding.”

Adam blinked confusedly, breaths still coming fast and short, and Dean supposed that was the only answer he was getting right then. He had no bandages, and Adam’s shirt was already soaked in old and new blood, but he only needed a short term solution. _Ah, what the hell?_

He reached for the bottom of Adam’s shirt, ripping it off and into a few long strips. Adam tensed.

“Don’t worry kid, I’ll buy you a new one.”

Dean swiftly wrapped the makeshift stiff, bloodied bandages to the worst of Adam’s wounds, grimacing as he did so. Adam moaned.

“Hey, I know you’re pre-med- you probably have a lot to say about how infectious this is, or how bad my technique is, or whatever- but it’s the best I can do right now-”  

He caught sight of the gashes on Adam’s stomach, the trails leading up from his stomach to his chest. _Damnit._ There wasn’t enough shirt to bandage him all up. He didn’t have _time_ for this. He pulled off his jacket, made to wipe off some of the gunk that had accumulated on Adam’s face, before thinking better of it, and just draping it around the kid’s shoulders.

“Can you still use your arms? Adam.” The kid was blinking, off in his own head somewhere. There wasn’t time to be gentle- Dean grabbed the kid by his shoulders and gave him a rough shake. His head snapped back, then forward. “Adam. Can you still use your arms?”

He looked up, focussing on Dean. “Y-yes?”

“Good. Try and drink some of this while I look for a way out. It’s not a lot, but it’s a start.” He thrust the small flask of holy water into one of Adam’s hands, ignoring the slight pang of guilt he felt as the kid flinched at his movements. Adam stared at the container in confusion.

“Drink it- it’s water.”

Nothing.

“For the love of-”

Dean unscrewed the cap, and gently pushed the mouth of the flask to Adam’s lips, tilting it so that the liquid flowed steadily out. Drops of holy water dripped down the side of his face, and Adam shuddered. It had probably been a while since he’d eaten food, or had a drink, actually- probably didn’t help the disorientation much. Dean let out a slow breath. He was looking forward to wasting the freak that did this to _his_ family.

The canteen was soon empty, and Adam leaned back, breathing deeply.

“Th-thanks.” Already his voice sounded a little less rasping.

“Yeah, yeah.” He straightened up, picking his flashlight up from the side of the tomb. “Stay here while I look for a way out.”

There was a sharp inhale of breath, and then a thump as Adam toppled onto his side. “No- d-don’t leave me here- they’ll get y-”

“Hey!” Dean sat the kid back up and glared at him. “I’m not leaving this place without you, and there’s no-one here right now but us. I don’t know how long it’s gonna be that way, so you need to sit tight. Got it?”

“Wh-who-?”

“Dean. Dean Winchester.”

Adam blinked, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Like... like John Winchester?” His voice broke. He was young, and this never should have happened, but Dean didn’t have time to explain family history right now, so he thinned his lips and stared Adam right in the eye. Adam’s eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise, and Dean sighed.

 _Yeah,_ he thought, _that was my first reaction, too._

“Sit tight, kid.”

  

\+ + +

  

It was made pretty clear within the next two minutes that the door to the crypt was not going to budge. Which left the window above them as the only possible way out. 

Stacking coffins to make a platform had been easy enough, but there was no way Adam would have be able to climb up himself- the kid was barely able to stand on his own two feet, which meant Dean had to go alone. He’d left Adam with a gun and a promise that he’d be back as fast as was humanly possible, though he wasn’t sure how much good _that_ would have done- John Winchester had hidden from his youngest pretty much every skill that he could ever make use of in a situation like this, and Dean found himself almost cursing the man before he clamped down on his ill feelings, his jaw locked so tightly it was starting to hurt. He’d reached the Impala and sprinted his way back ( _time, time, Sammy, time_ ) to the broken window, tying one end of the rope he’d grabbed to a pillar and throwing the rest down. 

“Adam? Get that around you- I’ll pull you up.”

There was no reply.

“Adam?”

Silence.

“Adam!”

Fuck.

A quick glance around the darkened room from the vantage point of the window had him panicking- Adam was nowhere to be seen, and Dean practically barrelled his way back through the broken window, landing heavily on the floor, spare gun in hand. He’d made the decision to leave an injured, disorientated Adam alone- if anything happened to the kid, it was on him-

“ADAM?” 

There. He was there- right _there,_ standing up just out of sight, with his back to Dean, ignoring him and not helping the situation in any way- Sammy was in _danger,_ damnit, and Dean’s anger reared up, a volcano ready to smother everything that got in its way, until he saw what the kid was leaning on, and the anger was blanketed by a cold rush of shame. Guilt.

Adam was staring at his mother’s corpse. With her eyes and mouth wide in horror, and (what was left of) her entrails tangled around her midsection, she didn’t make the prettiest of pictures, and any colour that had made it back to Adam’s face since Dean had set him free had disappeared. There were tremors running through his body, and he was making a quiet choking sound, as if his stomach was trying to force its way up his throat.

Of course Dean had forgotten to close that casket before he’d left for the rope- because everything else had been going so well today. 

“Adam.”

“M-My mom-” 

“I know,” Dean said, pausing to clear his throat. He knew first-hand what this felt like, and Adam had seen more than he’d ever needed to of their life. He hadn’t needed to see this- and Dean wished he’d had the foresight to close the damn coffin of Kate Milligan when he’d realised her son was alive, because damn if it didn’t feel like her dead eyes were glaring up at him in accusation for the extra trauma he’d just stupidly inflicted on her child. But he didn’t have time for this- for wallowing in self pity and recriminations- Adam didn’t have the time, injured as he was, and Sam sure as hell didn’t. “We need to go.” 

“But my _mom_ -” Adam spun, lips turned downward and a look of sudden, utter rage on his face. Just by looking at him, Dean could tell the feeling was not one that Adam had worn a lot, and a part of him slumped in resignation at the reflections of his father, Sam, and himself echoed in the movement. What was it Sam had said? Oh yes- _he’s a Winchester; he’s already cursed._ “I’m _not_ leaving my mom. Not- not here.” 

“Yes,” Dean said calmly, “you are.” He held up a hand as Adam made to protest. “There is _nothing_ we can do for your mom, Adam. I’m sorry- I am, but the monsters that did this- they’re out there, and I have to stop them. I can’t just leave you here. You need to get to a hospital- I don’t know how bad they messed you up, and I have a brother that these freaks are after _right now_ , so you either come with me willingly, or I make you. We’ll come back for your mom. Later. But we need to go _now._ I mean it Adam- I’m only saying this once. What’ll it be?”  

  

\+ + +

  

Nineteen. He was nineteen, and huddled in the front seat of the Impala- Sam’s seat. They couldn’t have been more different, though. Sam took up more space than he probably should have, all arms and legs, and torso, (and hair). Adam was folded in on himself and staring at the sleeves of Dean’s jacket, blinking slowly and probably running the nightmare he’d just lived through his head on a loop.

Dean was pretty sure he was at least three times over the speed limit, but a quick glance at his passenger, and he still fished behind him with his right hand, groping for a cardboard container on the back seat. He thrust it at Adam, dropping it in his lap.

“It’s not much- half a burger from earlier- eat it.”

Silence, and no move to pick up the offered food, either.

_Damnit, when did these roads get so long?_

He sped the car up. Hospital. Milligan residence.

Sam wasn’t picking up his phone.

Dean glanced at his passenger again.

“How bad is it? Your injuries.”    

He _was_ bleeding all over the car, but Sam and Dean both did that on a regular basis. He had been fine to walk to the car once they’d made it out of the crypt, but Dean had had to support him along the way. Still, for having spent a few days in the company of a ghoul, he was in... better shape than he could have been.

“Adam.”

Silence.

_“Adam.”_

Silence. Great.

“Look, I know you’re pissed-”

 “- _Really._ ”

Dean sighed, clamping down on his frustration and grabbing at his phone once again to try and get through to Sam. No answer. End of the road was coming up fast- left for the Milligan residence, and right for the hospital. He gave Adam as much of a side eye as he could, while driving at ninety-five down a thirty. The kid was pale, and he remembered the strips of skin that had been missing- the blood soaked clothes and _bite-marks_ that were now hidden under his jacket. He turned his attention back to the road, fingers gripping the wheel so tightly that the knuckles were whitening.

“For what it’s worth,” he started haltingly, “I am- _sorry_ about your mom. I know what that’s like, and-” _it gets better? No. You’ll get over it? Hell no._ What consoling words could Dean possibly have to say to make this better? This had happened because of their dad, because of their blood, and because they had failed him. If Adam was pissed now, he would be livid when he worked that out. If he hadn’t, already. For now, he just needed the kid to talk. “You’ll survive,” he finished, feeling foolish. “You’re one of us, and that’s what we do.”

He supposed that that wasn’t comforting at all, but Sam had always been better at talking about feelings than he was. Sam, who still wasn’t picking his phone up.

The end of the road. Left for the Milligan household; right for the hospital. Dean glanced at Adam, whose gaze was still fixed on his sleeves. Adam. Sam. House. Hospital.

Lips turning downwards, Dean swerved the car to the left. The Impala sped off towards the Milligan residence. Adam had survived thus far- he could hold on a little longer. Dean would make sure both of his brothers survived through the night.    

 

\+ + +

  

The door was ajar; that was the first thing that Dean noticed when he pulled up to the house, the headlights of his car turned low to minimise attention. There was nothing else off about the house, but it was enough- Sam was in there, and the door was ajar. Sam wouldn’t have let that happen.

“Stay here,” Dean said to Adam, face a mask of impassivity. “Keep the doors locked. I’ll be back in minute.” Adam said nothing, but aside from a few scathing words in the car earlier, that was nothing new, and Dean shut the door to the Impala as quietly as he could before jogging up to the house, gun in hand.

As soon as he made it through the door, he heard them. Sam was on his back on the table in the dining room, a knife settled by his head, and Dean could see the blood pooling by one of his arms.

_Sammy!_

He rushed forward, shooting the bitch that was leaning over his brother right in the face- the only way to deal with a ghoul was by aiming for the head. She dropped with a gasp, and once again Dean was faced with the cold, dead eyes of Kate Milligan, though this time it was just an impersonator. He shook it off, striding towards the immobilised Sam, knife in his other hand to cut off the bindings.

“Dean, they’re gh-”

“I got it, Sammy,” and damn there was so much _blood_ \- “where’s the other Adam?”

 “Behind-!”

Dean was grabbed by his shoulders and thrown back into a flimsy door, grunting as it shattered leaving him to fall through into the kitchen, his gun sliding across the floor as Sam shouted in outrage in the background. The ghoul wearing the face of John Winchester’s third son glared down at him, knife in hand.

“My father... and now my brother. You Winchesters just don’t know how to stop breaking families up, do you? You’re monsters.”

“So you’re the freak that was feeding off of Adam, huh? Nice trick, wearing his skin when he’s still alive. Threw us off, there.” Dean kept his eyes on the knife as the ghoul made his way forward. A knife on knife fight wasn’t really his speciality, but he could deal.

“What can I say, I’m gifted. Kid didn’t know what hit him- and my was he a _screamer-_ his mom too, come to think of-”

A shot rung through the air and ghoul staggered forward. Dean disarmed it with a quick move, then punched it in the face, flooring it. In the doorway stood Adam- the _real_ Adam, Dean’s discarded gun in his shaking grasp. The ghoul wasn’t dead- a shot to the back wouldn’t do that, but it hadn’t made to get up yet, and Dean edged his way around it towards the kid. Of course he hadn’t stayed in the car. He was a Winchester- guts, stupidity, and a thirst for revenge made up most of their DNA, no matter how many messes it had gotten them into.

It was disconcerting, however; the expression on Adam’s face was bordering on vacant, but he had yet to lower the gun.

“You have to shoot a ghoul in the head to kill it,” said Dean, making his way to Adam’s side. He licked he lips, glancing from the downed ghoul, back to Adam. “Here, let me-”

_BANG._

That one missed, the shake in his arm causing the bullet to miss the target and embed itself in the floor.

_BANG._

That one sure didn’t. The ghoul stilled completely.

Dean blinked. Well... that was one way of handling it. Third time lucky- the kid was right on target. Adam dropped the gun and shuffled back into the wall of the kitchen, eyes facing the floor. He still looked so small, almost lost in the ill fit of Dean’s jacket, and Dean had to say something- but Sam-

Sam was gasping on the table, the blood from his arms beginning to drip onto the carpeted floor, and Dean quickly moved forward, cutting through the ropes holding his brother down.  Sam was pushing himself up, and Dean grabbed a towel from the sideboard and hastily pressed it to the wounds, swearing when he caught sight of another one at Sam’s side. He glared furiously at the downed ghouls- if he could bring them back, he would, just so that he could kill them again.

“Come on. Come on. I got you, Sammy, I got you. Come on, hang in there buddy, you’re ok. Hang in there. All right.”

 He pulled his giant of a little brother to his feet, and the man stumbled- the head-rush from a loss of blood. Damnit.

“Sammy?”

“I’m ok, Dean. Thank you. It’s fine, it’s... Adam?”

Dean looked up, and the youngest was staring right at them, eyes flicking from one brother to the next. Dean could see the kid trembling, his face three shades too light to be healthy.

“Right. Hospital. Now. Come on.”

He started dragging Sam out of the door, ignoring his protests of _but I’m fine, Dean, Dean-!_

“Adam,” Dean called back. “Come on. With us.” 

There was a slow drag of feet behind them, through the hallway, the doorway, and to the car, where Dean manoeuvred Sam into the front seat, slamming the door shut behind him, and sitting behind the wheel himself. Adam was staring right at him through the rear-view mirror. 

Dean swallowed, his throat very suddenly inexplicably bone dry.  

There was no time to dwell on it. He gunned the engine and sped for the hospital.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had a lot of fun with this- wrote it pretty much all in one sitting. Unusually productive for me, but it broke right through the writers block I’ve been having recently. Considering I’ve been considering this story since 4x19 first aired, it was weird that it took me this long to actually write it out. 
> 
> The only real problem I had was forcing myself to write ‘mom’ instead of ‘mum’. Literally every instinct I have was trying to stop me from doing it! The things I do for fanfiction... Do let me know if I slip up with any major britishisms. 
> 
> Apologies if any characterisation is wonky- I’m kinda new to writing Supernatural. Just started watching it again after like... a two and a half year break, actually. I guess when it comes down to it, this is my take of what would happen if Adam lived. I’ve seen a few ‘Adam lives’ stories, but hopefully mine will be a little different. Thanks for reading!


	2. Cauterise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: ‘Supernatural’ is the property of Warner Brothers, the CW, and other associated parties. I claim no ownership of the franchise, characters or settings, nor am I affiliated with the above parties in any way. The following is a fan-work, written for my amusement, and not for material or monetary gain. Please support the official releases. (I don’t own this).
> 
>  
> 
> I didn’t even have to put anything specific to the American health system in here at all, but the research about it still confused the hell out of me.

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**Coalescence**

**Chapter 2: Cauterise**

 

\+ + +

  

The staff of the emergency room at the hospital had taken one look at Adam before whisking him onto a bed and wheeling him away. Likewise, the sodden rags wrapped around Sam’s arms, along with his bloodied shirt, drew an equal amount of attention, and a nurse gave Dean a dirty look (that he returned in kind) before taking Sam in the opposite direction. Dean was left in the reception, fingers twitching with the need to do something- anything, but forced to sit helpless while he waited for news. Fortunately for him, it was less than a half-hour before a nurse appeared through swinging doors, a tired look on her heart-shaped face. 

“Mr... Nugent, was it?” 

“Uh- yeah.” Dean straightened up, giving the woman his full attention. “How’s Sam?” 

“Your partner lost a fair amount of blood- the wound to his side, thankfully wasn’t too deep. We’ll be keeping him in for observation, for tonight, maybe tomorrow too, depending on how he copes, but we’ve done all we could. He just needs to restrict his movements for a week or two- give the stitches time to do their work.” 

“Right, right, but he’s all right?” 

“As all right as he can be for now, yes.” 

“And Adam?” 

The nurse frowned, her appraisal of him suddenly far too critical. “Mr Milligan is suffering from a far more complicated set of injuries. The doctors haven’t finished with him yet, so I couldn’t tell you. Just _what_ happened to Adam, Agent Nugent?” 

Strangely demanding. Dean was almost taken aback by the change in demeanour before remembering that Adam’s mother had worked in a hospital. Probably this one, at that. “I take it you know Adam and his mother personally?” 

The women nodded, her face still stern, but worry creeping around the edges. “Both, for as long as Kate has been working here- almost ten years. Kate’s a wonderful woman, and her son is an absolute credit to her. This, this is the last thing that poor boy needs when his mother is missing. What _happened_?” Her shoulders slumped. “I asked him,” she said, voice barely more than a whisper, “but he wouldn’t say anything.”    

He shifted uncomfortably. Dealing with friends and family of the people who were usually harmed by the nastier edges of the world Dean was familiar with was usually second nature to him; he’d been doing it for long enough to know the vague platitudes that should be offered for any given situation, that it came naturally. But this was different. Adam was family. He may not have known the kid- hell, he knew less of him than he did just two days ago, the thing they’d been eating with and protecting being the very thing that they’d been hunting, but he was family, and he had a life. A real life, with friends, school, and maybe even some other family. This time it was personal; if not for him, then for his _youngest brother_. 

(It was weird that there was now more than one brother to think about. _What had his dad been thinking?_ ) 

He surveyed the woman in front of him. Middle-aged, lines beginning to form around her mouth and eyes, and such kind brown eyes, they were. And she was concerned, honest to God concerned about a member of his family, even if she didn’t know it. She wasn’t worried about him because she owed him her life, or the lives of her loved ones- no, she was worried because she knew him, because she was a part of Adam’s life that Dean had no idea about, and if he was honest with himself, he was unsure exactly how to handle the situation. 

He cracked his neck. “Nurse... Kelly?” Her name badge certainly said so. “Your concern is-" ' _touching'_  would make him sound too sarcastic, too much of a jackass, "-appreciated.I am glad that Adam has someone who's looking out for him. You’ll know more about it when we do. Until then, I’m afraid I’m restricted from discussing it with you.” _When in doubt, fall back on bureaucracy._ He allowed her a small smile, trying to put her at ease. “Adam’s a tough kid, but he’s been through a lot. He’ll be fine, but until then, I’d advise you- don’t question him.”    

That was probably sharper than was strictly necessary, and the nurse looked unappeased, but Dean shrugged it off. It would save Adam some grief, at least. “Now, Ms. Kelly, if you could take me to my partner?”

  

\+ + +

  

Dean waited for the medical staff to leave before he moved forward, cataloguing the bandages that swathed Sam’s form, one at a time. They were a bright, clean white, pristine and unmarred by any excess blood; definitely a good sign. 

“How ya feeling?” 

“We could have done this ourselves at the hotel, Dean.” 

Sam was bitching (when wasn’t he?), but he didn’t look uncomfortable, and seemed in pretty good shape. They’d patched him up pretty well. There was already more colour in his face, and that was enough for Dean. 

“Adam needed to be here- nothing wrong with a little... multitasking.” 

“Yeah. You’re right- Adam. How is he? 

“Haven’t seen him yet- doc’s haven’t finished with him.” There was a shortness to that that had Sam frowning. 

“He’ll be fine, Dean,” he said, and then more hesitantly, “This... wasn’t your fault, you know that, right?” Sam narrowed his eyes at the noncommittal sound that issued itself from the back of Dean’s throat. “I mean it- neither of us saw it coming.”  Seeing Dean wasn’t going to change his opinion any time soon, Sam sighed, moving on. “Look- about Adam... not that I’m complaining- I’m not, but... how’s he even alive? Ghouls- they feed on the dead, Dean.” 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Dean said, taking the hard metal seat next to the bed. He was tired, so tired. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and face cast downward. “I didn’t get it either.” 

“And what, that’s it?” 

“What more do you want me say? I can’t exactly ask it, Sam- Adam blew its damn head off.”     

Sam rolled his neck. “Yeah. Yeah he did.” He leaned back, head resting on the pillow. “Well,” he reasoned, “things haven’t exactly been ‘normal’ anywhere, recently. Guess this another thing to file under ‘weirder than weird’. I guess we just got lucky. As lucky as we could get with something like this, anyway.” 

Dean grunted, and Sam looked over at him. “Though this doesn’t change anything, you know.” 

Dean cocked an eyebrow, looking up at him. “What are you talking about?” 

“ _This_ , Dean. Adam- Adam’s gonna be fine, but this happened because Dad didn’t teach him to protect himself.” 

Dean ran a hand down his face, irritation beginning to creep up his spine. This again. “Look, Sam-” 

“No Dean. Hear me out.” Sam ignored the set of his brother’s jaw, struggling to sit up, and ploughed on, “Adam almost died- hell, if those ghouls were acting like ghouls usually act, he _would_ have died. That’s on dad, Dean. I know you think dad didn’t tell him to protect him, and maybe you’re right, but look what good that did. They came after him because of who he is- they told me that themselves when they had me tied down!”    

“And now they’re dead,” Dean managed to grit out, “Adam doesn’t _need_ to be brought into this, Sam. He got his ‘revenge’- he has a _life_ \- Sam, you remember what that is?” 

“He’s already been brought into it, Dean! Dad didn’t want to bring him into it, and he was dragged into anyway! You think it’s just going to end?” 

“It’s over for him!” 

“It’s never over, _Dean_. You know that as well as I do.” Sam’s chest was heaving, and Dean closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. “Look, Dean, all I’m saying is that... ghouls take the form, thoughts and memories of the person they last fed on. That ghoul that was pretending to be Adam- it had his memories. It thought like he did. And it seemed pretty receptive to the idea of hunting.” 

“To get you to let your guard down, Sam!” 

Sam shook his head, giving a small shrug. “Maybe. But I’m just saying- don’t be surprised if Adam _wants_ to hunt after all this is over. They killed his _mom,_ Dean. You of all people should know what that’s like.”

Sam had never really known the love of a mother, not like Dean had. It was a low blow, and it stung for Sam to it bring up. Sam had always been good with his words, and maybe he even had a point, but Dean had heard enough. He stood, striding across the room for the door. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Look- we’ll talk about this- _with_ Adam, later. Right now, someone needs to get rid of the ghouls at the house, Sam. Just... stay here and get some sleep. And... call me when the doctors are done with Adam.” He strode out of the room, ignoring the weariness that seemed determined to settle in his bones. 

 _Guess I’m getting no sleep tonight..._ Leaving his details with the lady at reception, Dean exited the hospital and made his way to the Milligan residence.

  

\+ + +

  

The kitchen was a wreck, but it was nothing compared to the dining room. Blood- _Sam’s_ blood, had been spilt on the table, dripping down and congealing on the carpeted floor in a sticky, dark mess. It was a simple matter to wipe the table down, as well as the walls and floor of the kitchen; the police had already combed the house following the discovery of the grisly people-flavoured remains in the vents and released it for use by the family again, so there was no worry about them finding something they shouldn’t. It was just as simple to pick up what remained of the bullet that had missed Adam’s target, the fragments easily collected and left atop the pile of dirty, blood-sodden rags. The hole in the laminate flooring was another issue entirely; there was nothing Dean could do about that, save for looking for a rug to cover it later. Just as problematic was the soiled carpet in the dining room- Sam's blood had left ugly staines all over it... it would have to go. 

Now came the problem of the bodies. Even in death, the faux bodies of Kate and Adam Milligan had their eyes wide open, an expression of surprise written across their faces. It bothered him, and he stooped down to close their eyes. Death was not a concept that was foreign to Dean, who had been party to more than a few rodeos in his time, but these two... it was always different when you had a personal obligation to the people you were meant to be saving. And sure, Adam was alive, but his mother, with her pretty face twisted into an expression of horror back in the crypt, was not. 

John Winchester had owed Kate Milligan a lot more than she’d gotten. 

Dean had never been one to make the mistake that sex was love, but from what Adam’s ghoul had said, John had made a fair share of trips down to Windom, if not for Kate, (though from the photo he’d seen of the both of them, smiling as if they hadn’t a care in the world, it was doubtful), then for his third son. He’d had some attachment to them, it was undeniable. Probably _had_ loved them in his own way, a little piece of his world that remained untouched and pure, away from the nightmare that usually was, and it hurt, it _hurt_ that John had deemed his oldest sons as unworthy of fitting into the slice of apple-pie life that he had carved out for himself, but it was what it was. Who was Dean to judge, anyway? He’d tried the same thing with Cassie, hadn’t he?   

Though he had never figured his dad to be one to believe that hunters and white picket fences mixed well. Dean had learned that the hard way, Sam had too, but his dad- his dad was a hunter; one of the best hunters that had ever lived. John should have known better than to leave what he loved defenceless. And there was the problem. 

John _did_ know better- Dean was raised as a soldier for a reason, he knew how to protect, how to beat down and kill anything that threatened the innocent, and Sam was no slouch either. Whatever Sam had ever had to say about their father, John had taught them to be strong because he loved them. Dean knew it. 

Kate and Adam? It was hard to justify. Maybe his dad had wanted to protect them, and Dean was sure that was the case, but even he could admit that John hadn’t done a very good job of it. His dad should have known, as every hunter knew, that if you ganked enough monsters to make a name for yourself, you painted a target on the backs of your loved ones. John had blasted holes in the forces of hell when he’d been alive and kicking, but he’d been careless, and Adam and his mother had paid for it. Another Winchester was left motherless. Another Winchester had been left as an orphan, this time to the freaks that John had unwittingly led to their door. 

Dean sighed, surveying the kitchen and dining room with a critical eye. It was strange to be on cleanup- he was more accustomed to completing a job and then high-tailing it out of the area before the law caught up. Still, he hadn’t done too bad a job, as far as he could tell. There was just the matter of disposing of the bodies. Couldn’t just leave them here, not when they not only looked exactly like the people they were impersonating, but probably had identical DNA to boot. Who knew how ghoul physiology worked? Sam probably had an idea, but that was beside the point. 

He lifted the edge of a curtain, peering out of the window. It was still dark, blackness pressing in from outside from all angles. That was no guarantee that he would remain unseen, though. He’d have to be quick. He made his way up the stairs, pulling the sheets off of the beds, then returning to the kitchen to wrap them around the bodies. This was going to have to be done fast. The car was already in the drive, trunk popped and ready.

Dean bent down to pick up the first body.

  

\+ + +

  

There was a chill in the air, and Dean was sorely beginning to miss his jacket now the heat from the fire had died down. He’d driven a way away from the vicinity of the Milligan’s home, past houses and empty fields until he came to a strip of deserted woodland. It seemed like as good a place as any to get rid of the bodies, and he’d built a small pyre, placing the bodies atop it, and then dousing them with petrol before setting them alight. Honestly, it was reminiscent of a hunter’s send-off, and much more than the freaks deserved, but it was the only way to get rid of the bodies completely and be sure that they’d stay gone. Adam didn’t need questions on why he or his mother had had exact doppelgangers walking around. 

The sky was beginning to change from black to a dull red when his phone went off, the opening notes of _Smoke on the Water_ chiming through the clearing.  He looked away from the ashy embers, all that was left of the ghouls at this point, and reached into the pocket of his jeans to pull it out. 

“Yeah?” 

“Dean?” 

“Sam?” 

“Doctors are done with Adam.” 

“And?” 

“He’ll be okay.” 

“Been to see him?” 

“He’s sleeping. You cleaned up the house?” 

“Yep. Burned the bodies.” 

“Takes care of one problem.” Sam yawned. 

“Yeah.” 

“All right, I’ll see you soon then.” 

“I’m on my way.” 

 

\+ + +

  

True to Sammy’s word, when Dean got to the hospital, Adam was sleeping. He’d conveniently been moved to a room that was closer to Sam’s, and Dean had peered through the window into his room, not wanting to disturb him just yet. He wouldn’t know _what_ to say to the kid if he did wake him up. Let he never be described as sensitive, but Dean couldn’t see the harm in giving the kid a break, for now at least. Let him sleep, so he wouldn’t have to deal with the nightmare his life had become overnight. Striding past Adam’s room, Dean made his way to Sam’s, pushing the door open. 

“All right, Sammy-” 

Sam was as far off in the land of nod as Adam had been. Dean shut his mouth. That Sam was resting was good. He needed the sleep, especially after what he’d been through. Setting the bag of essentials he’d bought for Sam down at the bottom of the bed, Dean started out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

He felt his weariness crash down on him once again and sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. The chair that had been beside Sam’s bed earlier had been removed, so he was stuck looking for a new place to sleep. He was tired- more tired than he had been for a long while, and there was nothing else to be done for a while. It was as good as an excuse as any to find a place to crash for a few hours. 

He caught sight of some plastic chairs lined up along one of the walls and made a beeline straight for them. They were ideally situated, really- close to both Sam _and_ Adam’s room so he wouldn’t have far to go once they were awake. He sank down onto a chair and let his eyes slip shut.

  

\+ + +

  

It was the rattle from the wheels of a hospital bed being pushed past his resting place that finally woke him fully. It felt like mere minutes had passed since he’d shut his eyes, but from the brightness outside the windows, he knew that wasn’t true. Barging back into Sam’s room had yielded nothing- the bed was empty and there was only one place Sam could really have been. He sighed, resigning himself to the fact that it was time to go see Adam properly. There really was no more avoiding the issue.

Before, when they’d believed the ghoul that had been impersonating Adam was the real deal, he had had the excuse of being busy with the case. Too busy with finding the monster of the week to pay proper care and attention to this sudden new member of the family, a new _brother_ at that, that had crept up on him. And that had been fine. He may not have liked the way that Sam was dealing with it all, would never admit to being maybe the slightest bit jealous, either, but he was dealing. And then, when he had found the real Adam, and things had changed, he’d had to focus on getting him and Sam to safety. There was no time for playing catch-up, or happy families.   

Now, there was no excuse, and he tried to stamp his reluctance down. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the kid; he didn’t _know_ the kid, and really had no reason to dislike him on anything other than misguided principle. Even he knew that he wasn’t being fair to Adam on that front. Regardless, there was a feeling of sickness in the pit of his stomach, and Dean growled, storming up the hallway to look for a coffee machine. 

He’d have to be at the top of his game to deal with everything that was coming- a shot of caffeine to wake him up properly wouldn’t go amiss.

  

\+ + +

 

The warm weight of the Styrofoam cup was as good a comfort as any when he walked into Adam’s room. 

True to his instincts, there Sam was, seated in the chair next to Adam’s bed. The former seemed absolutely fine now, the bandages tucked out of sight behind a thin layer of plaid, courtesy of Dean’s care package the night before. Adam, on the other hand, still looked rather peaky, though admittedly a damn sight better than he had the night before. 

There were still dark circles lining his eyes, and bruises ranging from a dark purple, to a yellowing green on patches of exposed skin, but they would fade with time. Bandages twisted up around his arms, too, though unlike Sam, whose bandages stopped at his forearms, Adam’s continued up and under the sleeves of his hospital gown. It was a safe bet, judging by the stiffness in Adam’s posture, that the bandages continued down around his chest, stomach, and beyond. 

“Dean,” Sam said, giving him a small smile. He nodded to the empty chair beside him, but Dean paced over to the other side of the bed, leaning against the wall instead. The eyes of both of his brothers followed him along the way. There was silence. 

Sam cleared his throat, trying to dispel the sudden awkwardness that had fallen over the room. “I was just trying to explain to Adam-” 

“My mom. You went back for her?” Adam cut Sam off, and the unblinking gaze he had settled on Dean was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable. 

Dean broke eye contact and took a sip of his coffee, savouring the flavour as it passed over his tongue. “Not yet.” 

“You said you would.” 

“And I’m going to,” Dean stressed, “but it’s not that simple. We need to go over what happened first.” 

“Dean.” That was Sam, and smart as he was, he’d picked up on what Dean was implying. 

“ _What,_ Sam?” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t...” 

“Gotta deal with it sometime, Sammy,” Dean replied, barely skipping a beat. “So, Adam, you talked with the cops yet?” 

There was a muted expression of confusion on Adam’s face as he shifted in the bed. “Myra- Nurse Kelly said you were the cops.... She said... Agent Nugent bought me in, but... you said your name was Dean. Dean _Winchester._ ” There it was, the wrinkle between his eyebrows as they drew together, Adam’s sluggish brain working to connect the pieces. “So... you lied? Who _are_ you?” 

“I told you.” There was an impatience in his voice that really shouldn’t have been there, and Sam picked up on it immediately. 

“Dean,” he snapped out, making a face. “Stop it.” 

Adam glanced at Sam, then back at Dean. “So my _dad_ \- John sent you?” 

The words stifled any intent between the older two men to carry on their argument, and their heads snapped back around to stare at Adam, but he wasn’t done yet. 

“They said that he was dead. That they came after us because... Because they couldn’t get to him. Were they lying? Where is he?” 

The first time Dean had broken the news to the voice on the end of the phone, he’d done it uncaringly. As far as he’d known, John didn’t really have many friends, and the ones he did have were well aware that he was no longer in the land of the living. John didn’t have to deal with this. 

Dean took another sip of his coffee, trying to will his irritation, his frustration and anger away. He shot a look at Sammy over the rim of the cup, and Sam answered for him. 

He gave Adam a small, sad smile, compassion present in it that Dean was sure he couldn’t pull off himself, and leaned forward. “Sorry, Adam, but... _our_ dad didn’t send us. They were telling the truth about one thing- I’m sorry, but dad died over two years ago.” 

There was a quiet intake of breath before Adam’s lips pursed. He took a moment to try to compose himself, but it didn’t work, not really. Dean could practically see the kid crumpling around the edges, any anger that had built up one instant simmering back under grief the next. 

Adam looked between the two of them, more closely this time, and Dean saw a fleeting re-emergence of the look Adam had given him back in the tomb when he’d first revealed his identity.  

“So you’re saying I... I have brothers?” 

They’d heard that before. It was eerie, actually, just how similar the ghoul had sounded to Adam in its own reaction to the news. The revelation had swept the anger out of him, if only for a moment, but instead of an awed, hesitant smile, Adam’s eyes narrowed. 

“Did you know? About me and my mom?” 

“No,” said Dean. “No, we didn’t.” 

“He said- he didn’t have any other family.” Adam was staring right at Dean, and he could have sworn that the kid was watching for a reaction. “That’s what he told my mom.” 

And that... hurt. Felt like a splinter had passed right through his chest, actually, and Dean swallowed, looking away. Even with Cassie, he’d never pretended that his family didn’t exist, not when he was using his _own damn name_. It was a betrayal, one he’d never expected. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam’s small smile finally falter, and a silence descended on the three of them. 

“We think...” Sam finally said, clearing his throat, “that he was trying to keep you out of this. Keep you safe and distance you from what he did for a living, but-”

“That worked out _so well._ ” There was enough acid in there to burn a hole through the wall. Adam’s knuckles were clenched white against the bed-sheets. 

“He did the best that he could.” Dead didn’t even know why he was still trying to defend his father at this point, but he’d never had the patience to hear outsiders put him down, not after everything he’d done for them. Then again, Adam wasn’t an outsider. 

“My mom is dead because of him,” Adam hissed. “That’s what they said!” 

“He made a mistake,” Sam said, expression beseeching, and Adam sneered. 

“He should have just stayed the hell away!” 

“He was trying to do the right thing,” Dean snapped. “What, you’d prefer not to have had a dad?” 

Adam laughed, and it was a bitter sound. “John Winchester was a guy who showed up once or twice a year for a few years to take me to a ball game or two. He was blood, but he wasn’t my father! You think I wouldn’t trade the few days he thought we were worth his time to have my mom back?” 

Well that certainly threw the ghoul’s account of the kind of father John had been to Adam in a different light. 

Adam was breathing harshly from his outburst, trembling in anger. He winced, drawing his arm against his chest and struggling not to curl in on himself from whatever was paining him. Sam stood, drawing closer with concern written across his face. 

“You all right?” 

Adam threw him a dark look and Sam held his arms up in surrender, reluctantly sinking back into his seat. There was silence while Adam tried to get comfortable, trying to rein himself in, and Sam glanced at Dean, nodding over at the Milligan trying to get Dean to say something. Dean rolled his eyes. 

“Look, kid...” weariness was threatening to overturn him again, and Dean sighed. “I am sorry. You deserved better- your _mom_ deserved better, and dad- dad should have known better, but we can’t change the past. We have to deal with it.” 

The boy looked up, holding his gaze, and Dean looked at him. He was pale, all wide blue-green eyes that were becoming suspiciously brighter by the second, and bruise-splodged skin. His bottom lip trembled, just the slightest bit, and Dean’s gaze flickered to it before he looked away. Adam was scared, and upset, and justifiably angry, and he hadn’t deserved any this.  

“My mom...” Adam finally stuttered out, his shoulders slumping and head dropping down, as if the strength in his body had suddenly fled right out of him. His voice was barely more than a whisper. 

“We know,” Sam said, hesitantly reaching forward once again to lay a hand on Adam’s shoulder. 

“She was alive, and it started eating her,” Adam said hoarsely, head still down. “And then, then it turned _into_ her. And then...” he ran a hand over the bandages on his left arm, shuddering. He swallowed, looking up, and Sam’s hand drew back. “Dad wasn’t a mechanic, was he? And you’re not cops?” 

Silence. 

“I just... want to know why this happened. Please.” The anger in his voice had been subdued by defeat, and Sam shot another look at Dean, who felt nothing at that moment but utter resignation. 

He sighed. They’d gone through this once already, with the ghoul, but there was no way that Dean could shield Adam from the truth this time. His dad had tried that, and the price had ultimately been fatal for Kate. They wouldn’t be making the same mistake twice. “Dad was a hunter. Sam and I- we’re hunters. Monsters, freaks, the supernatural- we hunt them and we kill them so that they can’t hurt people.” 

Adam blinked slowly. “So those things... they really were ghouls?” 

Dean nodded. Adam had seen the effect of the supernatural first hand. By his own account, he’d seen the ghouls feed on his mother while she was alive, and then transform into her, right in front of him. It took denial out of the equation. 

“And there’s more out there like them.” He looked dazed. “And you... you hunt them all?” 

“Yeah.” 

Adam’s eyes shut, his head lowering once again. “Crazy runs in the family, doesn’t it?” It was sardonic; an echo of a personality that Dean was pretty sure Adam had also inherited from the Winchesters, despite growing up almost completely isolated from them. 

Sam let out a short huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Adam looked over at him, holding his gaze for a few seconds before dropping his head back and staring at his fingers. “I want my mom out of that place,” he said finally. “What... what do I tell the police? I can’t... the ghouls... My mom...” 

“That’s what we’re here for, Adam,” Sam said, giving another reassuring smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise that this seems more Dean centric at the moment, but Adam’s POV will become the more prevalent one from chapter 3 onwards, with a bit thrown in from Sam and Dean from time to time. My excuse right now is that Adam’s pretty out of it, and Dean is the one actually doing stuff. But seriously, I didn’t realise I’d been writing entirely in Dean’s POV, actually, until half-way through this chapter, stupid as I am. I just really loved the way Dean reacted to and dealt with (rather, didn’t deal with) finding out about Adam in Jump the Shark. The way he thought Adam should be treated, and the way he actually treated him was also one of my main point of interests... I am a horrible person. That, and I wanted to set the tone for Adam’s behaviour from the get go from a more familiar perspective, before jumping into his head. Honestly, I think if Adam truly had lived canonically, it wouldn’t have been a seamless integration into the Winchester family for him. While Sam and Dean have their disagreements throughout the series, they’re still very much a unit. Adam doesn’t think the way they do. At the very least, I could see it causing some friction. 
> 
>  
> 
> On a semi-related note, it always surprised me, (though maybe it shouldn’t have), how pro-hunting Sam became in series 4. Guess it was life experience, as well as a by-product of basically being high on demons blood, I mean, Sam was hardly himself that series, but it was interesting how the brothers’ opinions on the way they were raised sorta flipped.


	3. Changeover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: ‘Supernatural’ is the property of Warner Brothers, the CW, and other associated parties. I claim no ownership of the franchise, characters or settings, nor am I affiliated with the above parties in any way. The following is a fan-work, written for my amusement, and not for material or monetary gain. Please support the official releases. (I don’t own this).
> 
> I realise this is pretty slow moving- it will be until... chapter 5, or 6, depending on if things in my head transition as smoothly onto paper as I’m hoping they will. Hopefully you guys won’t find it too boring in the meantime ^^

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.

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**Coalescence**

**Chapter 3: Changeover**

 

† † †

.

.

. 

Eight days since he’d been called home from university because his mother had missed her shift and was presumed missing. 

Seven days since he himself had been captured. 

Four days since Dean Winchester had freed him from the coffin he was sure he was going to die in. 

The patches of skin that he had been missing had been worrying but he’d been assured that they would heal. He’d have scars along his arms, across his stomach, chest and legs, there was no way around that, but he would heal. The infections that had started setting into the still-raw areas of skin were more worrying, but they had held him in for observation for nearly five days, and he was being fed a diet of several different antibiotics to keep him in check. Dehydration had been the biggest concern. He’d been informed that the human body could survive up to ten days without food, but only three without water, which was something, because the hospitality the ghouls had shown him had ended at a few gulps of liquid two days into his capture. 

They’d told him that he was going to be the last one they feasted on, and he’d been kept in the coffin for too many days to have thought otherwise, not when he’d seen his mother ripped into, and been too helpless to save her. 

Dean had called in his mother’s body nearly four days ago, and the coroners had just released her body back to the family. He’d been visited by a lawyer not long after, heralding his mom’s last wishes in the form of her will. 

Adam had been released from hospital the night before, had suffered through a few police interviews, coasting on the story that Dean had fabricated and made him memorise. Dean had the larger part to play. He was the ‘FBI agent’ who had caught a lead and gone to the crypt with his partner when Adam had ‘gone missing’ in the middle of their investigation. 

Adam’s part in the story was rather simple- he’d been ambushed from behind at home a few days earlier, after meeting Agents ‘Nugent’ and ‘Smith’. He’d woken in a coffin that he could not open, with his eyes blindfolded.  Every time the coffin had been opened, it was too dark for him to get a good look at his attackers, and all that he could really say was that that there was two of them- one man, and one woman. 

The lie had felt odd in his mouth the first time, the words seeming to cut jaggedly into his teeth and tongue, aching to tell the truth about what really happened to his mother, but the more he repeated the lie, the easier it became. The cop who’d interviewed him had been a little unnerved by the matter of fact tone that had been coming out of his mouth and maybe he should have put on a better act, but he’d long since run out of energy. There was nothing they could do to disprove the story and it was corroborated by not one, but two FBI agents. The police were now on the lookout for anyone to fit the extremely vague description that Adam and his two new half-brothers had painted, and had opted to leave him alone with his grief until further notice. 

He’d been plagued with visitors during his time at the hospital once his mother’s body had been recovered and news went out, and it strange just how many people she had actually known. They ranged from people who had seen Adam grow from a boy into a man, to people she’d treated and he’d never met, coming along to pass along their condolences. He’d accepted them with as much grace as he was capable of. His mother had been a kind, beautiful, brilliant woman. The ghouls had left her with nothing. 

His thoughts having taken a distinctly darker turn, he was not too disappointed to be jolted from them when there was a knock on his bedroom door. 

“Adam, you up? Service is in a few hours.” That was Sam. 

It was strange, would almost have seemed like someone somewhere was trying to compensate him the loss of his mother with two hulking half-brothers, but any idiot would have been able to see that that was far from a fair trade. 

Of course, Sam and Dean Winchester had taken to moving into the living-room of the house when Adam had been released from the hospital, without so much as a by-your-leave. How they would explain that away if anyone asked just why two FBI agents were bunking over at the house of the victim would be interesting. And Dean had made a face at his unfeeling explanation of the past events when he was having his statement taken. 

Their presence was maddening, though, especially when Adam just wanted to be left alone. The night they’d escorted him home, Dean had brashly announced that they were staying to keep an eye on him. Sam had given him an apologetic smile, and Adam, who had not the energy to argue, had avoided more awkward conversation by making his way up to his room and easing himself carefully onto his bed. It had been missing its bed-sheets, and he was sure there was a story there, but wasn’t one for curiosity at the time. 

Now it was morning, the sun had long since risen, and Adam pulled himself out of bed, dragging himself past his mother’s room (the door had remained firmly shut and he hadn’t had the heart to go in there) and to the bathroom. Having finished with his morning ritual soon enough, he made his way back to his room to get ready. He pulled a suit- the only one he owned- from his wardrobe, and stripped, getting into it. It was old, he and his mother had got it before prom, and while he had filled out a little since then, the length was fine, even if maybe just a little more snug a fit. 

Once he was done, he made his way down the stairs, past Sam (who murmured a ‘good morning’ around the glass of orange juice he’d helped himself to), and through the hallway into the kitchen. Dean was sitting at the table, a sandwich on the plate in front of him. He glanced up, meeting Adam’s eyes before giving a short nod and turning his attention back to his food. Adam ignored him, walking over the haphazardly placed mat now situated across half the kitchen floor (he had stopped short in the doorway of the kitchen the first time he’d re-entered the house- the bodies were gone- Dean had said he’d take care of it, and he had- and the kitchen and dining room were clear of any evidence of wrong-doing, save for the new mat. “It’s to cover the hole,” Dean had said with a stiff shrug). 

He opened the fridge. They were running low on supplies, and his mo- _he_ would probably have to go shopping soon. He didn’t think he wanted to face it just yet, though he appreciated the sentiments, the pity in the eyes of everyone he’d ever known once they found out what they thought had transpired was loathsome. He grabbed an apple and the last of the milk, settling down on a chair opposite Dean, who gave him a cursory eyeballing before pulling out his phone and focussing on the screen. 

This new brother of his may have been insensitive and rude, but he didn’t talk to Adam unnecessarily, not unless Adam spoke first, and not like Sam, who’d try to get a conversation going as soon as Adam was in sight. Dean didn’t seem to like him, seemed to view him with ire and annoyance, and even gave off the air of being at least slightly uncomfortable around him. He did his best to avoid Adam’s presence or ignore him completely, having rarely visited him the days he was in the hospital. He didn’t even talk to Adam much, not unless prompted by Sam’s less than subtle head shakes and gestures. The atmosphere between Dean and himself often stretched to cool silences, and that was ok- it suited Adam perfectly. Being alone in a room with Dean Winchester was as close to being alone Adam was going to get when the two were forcing their company on him. 

Dean was clearing his throat from across the table- probably had a bit of sandwich go down the wrong way, Adam thought detachedly as he considered the fruit in front of him. He’d always been a hearty eater, his mother had found it hilarious considering how scrawny he’d been, but since the ghouls and the subsequent cocktail of medication he’d been on, he’d found it hard to work up an appetite. He wouldn’t neglect his body, though, his mother would never have liked that, and Adam knew better. He took a swig of the milk, straight from the carton, though he was careful not to get any on his suit. 

Dean cleared his throat again and Adam looked across the table to see Dean was looking at him. He inclined his head towards the sink. “Maybe you should have a drink?” 

“What?” 

Adam raised an eyebrow. “Your throat?” 

Dean frowned in confusion, then shook his head. “Look, it doesn’t matter, uh...” He cleared his throat a third time. “You ready for this?” 

Adam shrugged, fixing Dean with a state. “It’s not like I have much choice.” 

Dean opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say something more, but thought better of it, looking away. “...Yeah. I suppose not.” 

Any semblance of appetite Adam had left was fading fast, and he took a bite of the apple, forcing it down with another gulp of milk. The clock above the doorway to the kitchen showed the time at a quarter to eleven. Sam walked in, placing his now empty glass in the sink. 

“Ready to go?”  

Dean grunted. 

 

† † †

 

It was with an ever growing sense of detachment that he watched the coffin- as different as he could have physically made it from the one the ghouls had them trapped in- lowered to the ground 

Even in the church, the coffin had remained tightly sealed. The coroners had stitched up the gaping wounds the ghouls had left behind, but Adam remembered them, and the cuts on her face and neck were not so easily hidden by clothes. He didn’t need another reminder of how much he’d failed his mother. 

It was over soon enough, though maybe not as quickly as he’d have liked. Revellers had come up to him, quietly giving him their condolences, but Adam felt nothing but the smallest prick of sorrow in the midst of the numbness that was consuming him. 

His mother was dead, and he stayed behind at the cemetery long after all but a few had left, staring at the grave that marked her final resting place. He could hear the faint echo of voices behind him, Dean and someone else- Sam had opted to stay right at Adam’s side the whole way through the service, despite the odd looks he had gained for it, but Adam ignored them all, stooping down and finally placing his own flowers next to the abundance of plants that were already placed around the white stone. 

“I’ll miss you, mom. I’m so sorry.” He placed a hand on the stone, the coolness of it seeming to seep right down into his bones. “I love you.” Something cold trailed down his cheek, and he raised a hand to wipe it off, feeling a belated spark of surprise when he realised it was a tear. It was strange, he hadn’t felt the urge to cry the whole way through the service, hadn’t shed a single tear since he’d come home from the hospital, actually. Even now, it felt like there was a wall in his head, shielding him from the worst of what he knew he should have been feeling. 

He swallowed, standing up. 

He could hear footsteps coming up behind him, felt a hand briefly touch his arm, and Sam’s voice above his ear. “Come on, we should go.” 

Adam let himself be dragged away, and the two met with Dean a little further back. The man had a look of irritation plastered on his face, staring down at a cop.   

“I’m just saying,” the cop said, “it strikes me as odd how whoever did this got away from not one, but two FBI agents. You guys are meant to the best, right? 

“Happens to the best of us,” Dean gritted out. 

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” asked Sam, striding ahead of Adam to his other brother. Adam glanced between the three of them- this guy being suspicious wasn’t something that could end well. 

“No!” snapped Dean, the same time the cop said “what, you don’t think it’s weird how many similarities this case had with the one in 1990?” 

“That was what we were basing our lead off of,” Sam said, “which you’d have known if you had clearance to read our report. I’m sorry, who are you?” 

The cop rolled his eyes. He gave a short look around, finding the cemetery quite empty, before turning back to Sam. “Don’t waste my time by pretending that report is anything less than bullshit.” 

“Excuse me?” Sam’s eyes were narrowed dangerously, chest puffing out in a perfect imitation of a man feeling like his station was being offended. Dean was scowling. 

“Whatever did this wasn’t... natural. There were three bodies missing from the Millsap Tomb. There were other bodies where Ms. Milligan was found that had been picked clean. It _was_ the same thing from the 90s, wasn’t it?” The cop looked between the two agents, challenge on his face. “Look, I don’t care if you’re not who you say you are. S’far as I’m concerned, you did something great for this place. But my uncle was there last time- he found the bodies. Never said much about it, just that it was a monster, and they stopped it. Now I need to know- it’s my job to keep this place safe. Whatever it was- _did you stop it?”_

It was a wholly unexpected, definitely not something that Sam and Dean usually got, Adam could see it despite how apparently great they were at lying.  Sam and Dean were staring down at the cop, guarded looks across their faces, and it suddenly dawned on Adam just how badly this could go for everyone involved if the rest of the force realised that his half-brothers weren’t who they said they were. 

“Off the record?” Dean asked carefully, and the cop nodded. Dean shot a quick look at Sam, and then at Adam behind him. “We dealt with it.” 

“So it’s over?” 

“Yeah,” Sam said. 

The cop let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Good. That’s good. Then you’ll get no trouble from me.” And just like that, he turned on his heel and strode off. 

Adam watched him go. 

 

 † † † 

 

The ride in the Impala was quiet, as quiet as it could be with the rumble of the car’s unique engine, anyway. Adam was sat in the back, Dean up front and Sam riding shotgun. He felt struck by how odd it felt to sit where he was sitting- the few times John had visited, Adam would be sitting where Sam was now as his dad drove him somewhere. He’d become accustomed to it being his seat, though he supposed the car belonged to Dean now. The two Winchesters were talking about something between themselves, and Adam fished his phone out of his pocket. 

He hadn’t really looked at it, not since his drive down from university, and had it charging all the night before. Looking at it now, he saw the message count was high, unusually so, and started scrolling down the list from the bottom up. Messages from his friends at uni, a lot of them starting with asking if he was ok and if there was any news on his mother, to expressing shock when they’d heard what had happened (how they’d even found out, he didn’t know) and condolences, and gratefulness that he himself was safe. He deleted them all, neglecting to reply to a single one. He hadn’t thought of school, or his friends- the thought of the more repetitive parts of his life had completely slipped his mind, but he couldn’t hide away forever, he’d have to go back eventually. It wouldn’t be a picnic to catch up all he missed, and the longer he left it, the more he’d have his work cut out for him. 

“-am.” 

He looked up. “What?” 

Sam had the car door open for him, an expectant look on his face, and Adam stared. They’d reached his house already. Oh. He got out of the car and started as Dean gunned the engine and took off again. He was left alone with Sam, who, if past experience was to be believed, would want to talk. On some level he appreciated the sentiment, knew that if it had come under any other circumstance he might even have been revelling in it (how long had he wished that he had a bigger family?) but on another level, one closer to the surface, much as he knew how Sam was only trying to help, his attitude was starting to grate on him. All Adam really wanted right then was to be left alone- the Winchesters were making that really hard. Adam watched as the Impala sped out of sight. 

“He figured the house needed some more food,” said Sam from somewhere behind him. Adam looked over to see Sam’s lips twitch upwards a fraction. “Dean has a funny definition of what counts as ‘food’, though, so don’t be too surprised if all he comes back with is pie.” 

A small noise of acknowledgement made its way out of the back of Adam’s throat, and he turned, making his way back into the house, Sam at his heels. He was halfway up the stairs when Sam called out to him. 

“Adam.” 

“...Yeah?” He half-turned on the step he’d stopped at, looking down at Sam. 

“Look, I know you don’t know us, and you probably want nothing to do with us, but... we are family, Adam. We’re brothers. And if you do need to talk- about anything- Dean and I- we will listen.” 

“Right.” 

Adam didn’t want to talk. He didn’t particularly like the idea of ‘blood being family’ that Sam was trying to push, either. He turned, slowly making his way up to the rest of the stairs, and escaped back to his bedroom. He ignored the sigh of frustration that wafted up the stairs behind him and closed the door with a small click. 

He had some packing to do.

  

† † †

  

It was a few hours later that he emerged from his room. It was a lot emptier than before, the remnants of the clothes and belongings he’d left behind at the start of the university year now almost completely packed away. His mother’s will had come through while he was in hospital, and she had left Adam everything- the house, all that was in it, her car, and the contents of her bank account. While he knew the house was still his, he didn’t want to leave everything of his there when he was gone- better to have everything with him, because there would be no-one to send him what he needed if he found he’d forgotten something once he was back at uni. 

He grabbed the now-full suitcase, and lifted, giving a wince as the weight aggravated his still-healing injuries. Ignoring the pain, he hefted the case up, marching resolutely past his mother’s room and down the stairs, heading for the garage. Dean had made it back by that point- he and Sam were talking quietly in the living room when Adam had descended the stairs (they were always talking- what did they even have to talk about?), and had paused when they heard him, but he ignored them too, heading for the door to the garage in the kitchen. 

He heard Sam and Dean pull up behind him, the tap-tap-tap as the soles of their shoes tapped against the laminate flooring. Adam groped along the side of the wall for a light switch, pressing it when he found it. His car was alone in the garage, his mother’s still in the parking lot at the hospital, (he really had to go get that). His car was nothing at all like the Impala in its sleek black glory. The only similarities between them was that they were both motor vehicles- the Impala was a thing of beauty; a classic. He’d known that much when his dad first rolled up in it. Adam’s car, a plain blue Ford Focus Hatchback, really couldn’t compete. His mother had bought it for him when he’d gotten into university, with the excuse that he’d better use it to visit her as much as he could. 

Thinking back on it now, he probably hadn’t visited her as much as he would have liked, definitely not as much as he could have, and he felt a dull stab of regret. He opened the car boot, placing the suitcase inside and then shut it, locking the car up behind him.  

He turned to exit the garage and instead came face to face with his half-brothers. 

“What are you doing?” That was Dean, and his voice was even gruffer than usual. 

Adam shrugged. “Look, not that I don’t appreciate you two sticking around, but... You’re done here, right?” He pushed past the two, heading back for the door to the kitchen, and they followed at his heels. “I mean- the job that dad, that you two do- what you came here for, it’s finished, right?” 

“Uh, yeah,” said Sam. 

“So what now?” 

“We actually wanted to talk to you about that,” said Sam. “We wanted to give you some time first.” 

“No time like the present,” Adam said, glancing at the two of them. He grabbed at a glass from the cupboard and poured himself some water. 

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Sam looked a little uncomfortable, and Adam knew that he probably wasn’t helping matters, but he didn’t really care. “Adam, look, I hate to spring this on you so soon after what happened, but... have you thought about what you’re going to do now?” 

“I hadn’t,” Adam said honestly, “but I know what I’m going to do now, yeah.” Both Dean and Sam were looking at him rather intently, and Adam frowned. “What?” 

“What did you decide on?”

Adam pointed over his shoulder at the garage. “I’m going back to school.” Both of his half-brothers looked surprised at that proclamation, Dean’s expression quickly making way for a flitter of appraisal, and Adam didn’t know why he felt the need to explain himself to these two strangers, but he did. “It’s what my mom would have wanted. It’s what I want.” 

“So you’re just going to forget what happened here?” Lo and behold, it seemed that Adam had finally managed to irritate the coddling giant.

“Sam,” said Dean, just a little sternly. Both Adam and Sam ignored him. 

“Uh... no. No, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget seeing monsters rip into my mom while she was still alive and eat her, thanks,” Adam drawled, pausing to take a drink when he felt a rush a bile try to crawl up the back of his throat. “But it’s dead. There’s nothing more I can do. This... gig that you two do? Dad didn’t teach me-” 

“We could teach you,” said Sam. He moved forwards, just a few steps, but Adam stood his ground. 

“No.” Why on earth would he want anything to do with what got his mother killed? He’d been joking when he said that crazy ran in the family, but maybe it wasn’t as much of a joke as he thought it was. Who _willingly_ emerged themselves in a world where monsters were real? 

“Adam, we’re family.” 

“What- that’s your argument? You- you don’t say that to me,” Adam snapped, finally started to feel a little rankled. “My mom- she was my _family._ Me and you? We’re _blood,_ but hell, Sam, we’re no different than strangers, it doesn’t matter how many times you say otherwise. Family? _Blood?_ There’s a difference- don’t you pretend otherwise. I don't owe you anything- you sure as hell don't owe me, so quit acting like any of that matters.” 

There was a flash of hurt in Sam’s eyes, but Adam shook it off. Who was Sam to wave the banner of family at him anyway? Sam and Dean? They were family- they had each-other. His mom was the only real family Adam had ever, _ever_ had. 

“Sam,” said Dean lowly, glancing between the two of is arguing siblings. “How is this any different from when you went to Stanford? It happens, man.” 

“But I was _wrong_ , Dean.” Sam looked genuinely distressed as he looked from Dean back to Adam. “We can’t just run away from this- Adam, you’re one of us whether you like it or not- it doesn’t just _stop_. You pretending to be something you’re not- all it does is get people killed.” 

“ _Sam.”_ Dean was there before Adam even had the chance to reply, bearing down on his younger brother. Sam glared back at him. “He can be normal. He doesn’t have to be like us.” 

“Except dad tried that, Dean, and look where it got Kate.” Sam looked guilty immediately after the words had tumbled out of his mouth, and a heavy silence descended on the kitchen. 

Dean sighed. He pointed Adam over to the table, where a slice of pie was sitting on a plate. 

“You. Eat.” 

“I’m not like you,” Adam said, staying where he was. “You said dad didn’t tell me about all this because it was safer that I didn’t know.” 

“And you saw how that worked out,” Sam said, his voice a lot quieter than it had been mere moments before. 

Dean gave Adam a small shove, pushing him towards the table. “Siddown and eat your food, kid.” There was a spoon already by the plate. “Sam, look at it logically- it’s not the best time for the kid to join us anyway. You think he could be much help against what we’re up against right now? We’re no good _babysitting_ , Sam.” The smallest crinkle around his eyes let Adam know the comment was said in good humour. “No offence.” 

“We need all the help we can get, Dean.” 

“The apocalypse, Sam. The goddamn _apocalypse_. We don’t have time-” 

“He’s family, Dean. He’s our brother!” 

“Yeah, and even if he wanted to come with us, he wouldn’t be because it’s too damn dangerous.” 

“Hey, just because I want nothing to do with what you do, doesn’t mean I couldn’t do it if I wanted to,” Adam said, cutting between their arguments, his irritation dripping off of every word. It wasn’t like he was something frail that needed to be protected, after all. 

“I'm your side here,” Dean snapped. 

“No,” said Adam, giving Dean a glare. “You don’t want me coming for your own reasons- you don’t even like me, so don’t go acting like you’re doing me a favour.”   

There was no move by Dean to even deny it, and the silence that had settled between them once again began suffocating the room. 

“What- so we just leave?” Sam asked. 

“No,” Dean said. He rubbed at his face, a habit he seemed to repeat quite a lot. “Dad tried that.” He glanced at Adam. “You’re set on going back to school?” 

“Yeah.” 

“When?” 

“Couple of days.”  Adam shrugged. “No point in drawing it out any longer- I haven’t got any other reason to stick around here now.” 

“Right,” said Dean. “That’s perfect.” 

“For what?” Sam was leaning against the counter, putting as much space between himself and Adam as he possibly could. 

“Dad didn’t teach you what he could have, no, but we’re not leaving you defenceless, Adam. You’re gonna learn some of the family business whether you like it or not.” 

† † †

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I apologise if there's anything here that seems off in grammar/spelling- I did read through/edit this the same amount of times as I have the other chapters, but I've been prescribed some new medicine by my doctor, and it's pretty strong, which leaves me feeling pretty bleh and halfway stoned... not a good mindset to be in when you're typing stuff up.
> 
> Secondly- I really feel like something is missing from the last exchange, but my addled brain hasn't been helping me remember exactly what it is that I think it's missing, so if I do eventually figure it out... I'll edit this and repost it.
> 
> Lastly- if the interaction between the three feels awkward- good, it's meant to be. I had... not the privilege, per se, but the experience of seeing a situation vaguely similar to this pan out. Not that the father of the people I'm talking about was a hunter or that he died- he was a guy who had been married, been divorced, and then got married again. He had kids with both partners, but Woman B didn't like Woman A very much, or vice versa, and barred their kids from seeing, interacting or getting to know each-other. When the kid's from both sides of the family eventually met up because they actually wanted to know more about their half-siblings, even though they wanted it, it was still awkward as hell. Oh, now they're close as can be, but it took a while to get to that point. Fun times.


	4. Separation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: ‘Supernatural’ is the property of Warner Brothers, the CW, and other associated parties. I claim no ownership of the franchise, characters or settings, nor am I affiliated with the above parties in any way. The following is a fan-work, written for my amusement, and not for material or monetary gain. Please support the official releases. (I don’t own this).
> 
> Ha, it’s never been my intention to make you guys hate Dean- I love him a hell of a lot, but I wanted to show that he’s having as much trouble adjusting as the rest of them- he just expresses it in a different, albeit jackass-y way until you reach the squishiness underneath... that’s Dean for you ^^
> 
> I’d recommend reading this chapter with ‘Shoot to Thrill’ by AC/DC playing in the background, seeing as it’s meant to mostly read as a montage.

.

.

.

**Coalescence**

**Chapter 4: Separation**

 

† † †

.

.

. 

The Winchesters stayed for three days. Dean had been true to his word- they had taught him some of the ‘family business’- enough to let him get away if he happened upon something strange in a dark alley, at least, and then a little more, just because. It was exhausting.  

He didn’t think he’d heard even the half of it.

  

  † † †

 

 _“Now ghosts come in a few different forms, but the most common is usually just a malevolent spirit with a grudge."_

_“_ Just _a malevolent spirit, huh?”_

 _Sam ignored his snarkiness and took it as a legitimate question._

_“Right. Keeping a ghost out is easy enough- same with demons in that a ring of salt will keep you safe enough-”_

_“Salt? What, like normal_ salt _salt?”_  

 _“Uh, yeah-”_

_“So I should just make a habit of carrying around a salt-shaker and I should be fine, right?”_

_“If you’re not gonna take this seriously-” Dean was glaring at him, but Adam didn’t really care. He knew what he’d seen- a ghoul wasn’t something science could explain- or could it? Could it be considered a mutant like the x-men? - But this whole gig was sounding more ridiculous by the second. Salt. Really?_

_“A bag of salt would probably be more effective. More spread,” said Sam with a straight face, and Adam snorted._

_Right._

_This was his life now._  

 

 † † †

  

They were loud, imposing even; a shock to his system when he was feeling more hostile against them than ever before, and it didn’t help the he was already feeling so edgy and they were forcing him to do things he really would rather not-

  

† † †

 

 _“I don’t see why I have to do this, it’s not like I own a gun anyway.” And it wasn’t like he was going to be travelling with them either- the odds of him needing to fire a gun anytime in the future were slim to zero. Shame he hadn’t gone for the badges to do with guns when he was going for Eagle Scout- it would have spared him this exercise._

_“Yeah, yeah, quit your bitching, point and shoot, come on. You’re worse than Sam.” Dean clapped him on the back, the strength of it making his shoulders sting. “The least we can do is make sure you can shoot straight before we go. Now shoot.”_

_Adam sighed, rolling his shoulders and getting back into position. He supposed Dean was as enthusiastic about this impromptu ‘training’ session as Adam himself was- Sam had pushed Dean into it, Adam had heard them arguing about it. It was stupid- it wasn’t like he didn’t know how to fire a gun- he’d managed fine a few days before. Point and shoot- it really wasn’t complicated. He said as much, and Dean waved him off, passing him the gun._

_Feet planted a shoulder’s width apart; he straightened his arms and pointed the gun at the target. Finger on the trigger, he lined up the shot, exhaled and_ squeezed _-_

 _Nothing happened. There was barely time for Adam to voice his confusion before Dean snatched the gun from his fingers and examined it. Not even two seconds later there was a small click and Dean handed it back, lips twitching in amusement._

_“Safety was on.”_

_“...Oh.”_

_Dean laughed, leaving Adam feeling like the world’s biggest idiot._

  

† † †

  

-and they wormed into pieces of his life that he hadn’t given a thought to in years-

  

† † †

  

 _“Wait, wait, wait, so you... made this?” Dean asked around the food in his mouth. He gestured to the dish of pasta on the dining table in surprise. “It’s not takeout?”_

_Adam shrugged. It hadn’t been his plan to cook for them all- he’d unthinkingly made the usual amount- enough for himself and his mother, but his own appetite wasn’t really doing so well, which meant plenty left over. “Too healthy for takeout.”_

_“It’s not bad- Sammy, try some.”_

_“Yeah, in a bit, Dean, that’s great.” Sam was staring distractedly at some of the photos set on the mantelpiece. He’d pointed at one in particular- Adam was a good few years younger, maybe twelve or thirteen years old, a baseball glove in hand as he grinned cheekily at the camera. “You still play?”_

_“What?” Adam caught sight of what Sam was pointing at, then shook his head. “No.”_

_“You play long?”_

_“Nah. A few years, but I didn’t like it.”_

_Sam’s eyebrows rose. “You didn’t like it and you still stuck with it for years?”_

_“It was-” stupid is what it was. He’d joined because his dad had shown an interest in the sport, and stuck with it in the hopes that one day his dad would come to a match and watch him play; maybe even stick around after where he and his mother and father could be a proper family. It had become pretty clear, however, that much as John did care about him, he wasn’t going to stick around. He didn’t even make it to a single match. The lesson took a few years to learn- Adam quit when he finally got it. “I thought dad was a fan, so I...” He trailed off awkwardly._

_“Ah.” Sam ambled back to the table serving himself. He took a bite. “Dean was right, this is good.”_

_“Tell me about it.” The eldest was already helping himself to seconds._

_“How’d you learn to cook like this?” asked Sam. “Never took you for someone who took an interest in this stuff._

_He didn’t like cooking. His mother had worked late shifts- Adam picking up culinary skills had been a matter of necessity, trial and error in a bid to lower the burden on her while she balanced him and work. “I had practice,” Adam said simply, but the words were tinged with agitation, and Sam sent a not-so-subtle look at Dean, and the matter was closed._

  

† † †

  

-but they made themselves at home, and Adam might have even been a little annoyed at that, but his mind was occupied by other, stranger thoughts.

  

† † †

  

 _“Ex- Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversary-"_

_“No. ‘Aversarii’, not ‘advesary’. Again.”_  

 

† † †

  

The supernatural was an interesting, if not insidious topic, no matter how unsettled talks about it may have left him feeling. It was a lot easier to talk to the Winchesters when they stayed focussed on ‘hunting’ and not personal matters, for it left Adam feeling less needled and Sam and Dean a lot more comfortable. 

 

† † †

  

 _“So aside from_ salt _, what else?”_

 _“What, against spirits?”_

_Adam nodded._

_“Well, you can go with iron- Dean and I have bullets made of the stuff, but anything would work, really.”_

_“Iron- got it.”_

_“Tools of the trade a usually simple enough. Salt works with spirits- with demons too, and holy water. Silver with werewolves and shifters- shapeshifters, sorry. Fire can work wonders in a tight spot against a wendigo. A shot to the head for ghouls- you knew that one already.” Sam looked down, breaking rhythm for a moment before clearing his throat and carrying on. “Once you know what you’re up against, it’s simple enough to deal with it. In theory.”_

_So they had ghouls, ghosts, demons, werewolves, shapeshifters and wendigos, whatever they were. “Is there any Hollywood monster that’s... not real?” All this teaching had been doing so far was making him paranoid._

_“Godzilla ain’t real,” Dean piped in, smirk on his face._

_“...What a_ relief.”

_He was pretty sure ninety percent of that was sarcasm, but both Sam and Dean chuckled, and Adam leaned back with a sigh._

  

† † †

  

Scratch that... it was definitely easier for Adam to talk to the Winchesters about hunting than to anyone else about _anything._

  

† † †

  

 _Adam had got to the door a second too late- Dean had beaten him to it. It swung open._

_“Nurse Kelly?”_

_“Agent Nugent?”_

_She sounded confused- so did Dean, really, and they stared each other down. Adam was frozen half-way down the stairs, and Sam had walked up the hallway to see what was holding Dean up._

_Myra held a dish up. “I- came over to see how Adam was doing- is- is he here?”_

_“Uh- yeah, come on in.”_

_The woman edged around Dean and caught sight of Adam on the stairs,. She relaxed a smidgeon, giving him a small smile which strained as she had to edge around Sam, also. Adam looked between the Winchesters, who were retreating to the kitchen, and then jogged down the stairs to follow his guest to the living room._

_She’d stopped short at the mess of the blankets and pillows, because of course, Sam and Dean had taken over the area as a living space, and used to the lack of visitors, had left it messy._

_“Maybe the dining... room?”_

_The large table was covered in papers to do with the supernatural- that sure as hell wasn’t anything she needed to see._

_“Here’s fine, sorry. Sorry,” Adam muttered, hastily pulling everything off of one sofa onto another to free it for siting._

_She carefully took the free space while Adam sat a little further down from her._

_“I bought you some shepard’s pie- I know it’s one of your favourites,” she said, handing the dish over._

_“Thanks,” said Adam._

_There was a silence that quickly reached awkward levels._

_“So... how have you been doing- since-?”_

_“Fine,” he said, and she looked unconvinced, so he sighed and carried on. “It’s... I’m ok. Really. I’ve been eating- I’m taking care of myself,” he motioned to the bandages still covering his arms, and of that, Myra should have been convinced- she was the one rewrapping them every other day on his trips to the hospital. “I’m going back to school at the end of the week.”_

_“So soon?” She sounded worried._

_“Yeah. I- well, there’s nothing left for me to do here. I need- something to do.”_

_“Yes,” she said, and she sounded sad, “I suppose you do.”_

_She was pitying him- he could feel it sliding over his skin, and it wasn’t what he needed. What he needed was to be out of the room. He got to his feet. “I’ll get you a drink-”_

_“No. No, don’t, Adam. Sit down.”_

_And he did, jerkily, hesitantly, but he did. She leaned over, fingers settling on his knee, and caught his eye._

_“I know it’s hard. But you’ll be ok, Adam.”_

_“I know,” he strained out. The blood was thumping in his ears so loudly that it was making it hard to hear. His body was filling with an awful heat, and it was making his head hurt and his joints ache._

_There was silence for a moment, and then Myra got to her feet. “I should probably be going now,” she said, sounding reluctant._

_“Ok,” said Adam._

_She gave him another look, and her eyes were misting. She smiled before taking him by surprise and pulling him into a hug. She was gentle, mindful of his injuries, but firm all the same. He’d towered over her since he was sixteen, and her grip around him made him stoop awkwardly. Not a single person had hugged him since he’d gone into that coffin, and he felt the blood rush in his head grow to alarming levels as his eyes began to burn. His arms came up of their own accord, and he hesitantly wrapped them around the woman’s back._

_“You’ll be ok, Adam. But if you ever- ever need a place to stay or someone to talk to- you know where I am. Don’t you ever feel as if you’re not welcome, you hear?”_

_“Ok,” said Adam, managing not to choke on the word._

_She pulled away and the rush in his head subsided, and he composed himself. Myra wiped her face, giving him another smile._

_“I won’t ask you what the FBI is still doing here, but you could at least tell them to clean up after themselves. This is atrocious,” she said, waving an arm at the mess heaped on the other sofa._

_His lip twitched. “Thanks for coming, Myra.” He meant it. Myra Kelly was one of his mother’s closest friends, and one of the people a younger Adam had been left to from time to time when her shifts and Kate’s had not overlapped. Aside from a plethora of phone-calls from the rest of her friends, she had been the only one to personally visit him, and he supposed that was fitting._

_“You’re as good as family, Adam. Don’t forget what I said, ok?”_

_“Ok.”_

_He showed her out, shutting the door slowly behind her._

_Sam came up at his back, laying a hand on his shoulder, and Adam supposed he’d heard the whole conversation. “Everything ok?”_

_He shrugged Sam’s hand off. “Yeah.” With Myra gone, the heat had left his body completely, leaving him cold again. He made his way back up the stairs and to his room._  

 

† † †

  

So he’d concentrate on the supernatural and what knowledge Sam and Dean were imparting before they parted ways, for now, at least. It was easier than the alternative. 

 

† † †

 

 _The shot was undoubtedly closer to the bullseye than any other he’d fired. Hadn’t hit it just yet, but it was just outside the centre ring Dean had painted. It was amazing how much just correcting your stance could help and Adam let out the breath he’d been holding. The recoil wasn’t too bad, but it still left the palm of his hand stinging, and he lowered the handgun._

_“Getting better,” said Dean, nodding in stilted approval. “Now do it again.”_

  

† † †

 Even if the Winchesters had secrets of their own.

  

† † †

  

 _Adam started as the door leading to the backyard from the kitchen creaked open. It was almost three in the morning and he’d come to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He hadn’t even switched the light on- he knew his own house well enough to navigate it in the dark. Both Sam and Dean had left earlier in the evening to take care ‘some business of their own’ (they’d said), and Adam wasn’t expecting them back at all, but here Sam was, creeping into the kitchen at an odd hour of the night. It wasn’t like Adam would have been able to mistake his silhouette as that of someone else- Sam was unreasonably tall._

_“Sam?”_

_The figure stilled. “Adam?”_

_Adam switched the light on, flooding the kitchen with a bright fluorescent light that left him and Sam blinded. A few seconds of blinking rapidly had his eyes adjust to the light and he peered at Sam over the rim of the glass. He seemed... different._

_Adam didn’t know why exactly- it wasn’t like he knew Sam all too well, but there was something about him- his posture was straighter than usual, and his eyes seemed especially alert for that time in the morning. Even his hair seemed a little less in order, but it was none of those things that had his senses tingling in unease. He couldn’t explain it right then, but there something definitely off with Sam. There were a few small droplets of dried blood on the chest of Sam’s shirt._

_“Are you... all right?”_

_Sam caught sight of where Adam was looking, and peered down at his shirt, blanching ever so slightly at the small mess and then forcing a smile onto his face as he zipped his jacket up over the blood. “I’m fine- nothing for you to worry about. What are you doing up? Trouble sleeping?”_

_Adam lifted the glass, not taking his eyes from Sam. He was having trouble sleeping, kept feeling like every time he closed his eyes he was back in the dark coffin, but that was none of Sam’s business. Not at all._

_“Whose blood is that?”_

_“No-one’s- not a monster or anything, either, don’t worry about it. Just got into a bit of an argument at the bar- nothing major.”_

_He supposed that that probably was legitimate excuse, but Sam didn’t seem like the type for bar fights, that seemed more up Dean’s alley. Adam couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly, but..._

_“Where’s Dean?”_

_“Probably off with some woman somewhere- wouldn’t expect him back tonight,” Sam said carelessly, turning away. “I’m gonna try get some shut-eye, now... unless you want to talk?”_

_That had Adam backtracking. “No.”_

_“Ok, then.” Sam gave a small nod, his lips quirking. “Night.”_  

 

† † †

  

And if he found even an ounce of comfort in the dysfunctional little set up the Winchesters had him in right then, could anyone blame him?

  

† † †

  

 _“Now the easiest way to see is someone is possessed by a demon is by saying ‘Christo’ in earshot of them. If they’re possessed, they’ll flinch and their eyes will flash black,” Sam explained from the other side of the dining table where he was seated. It was where a majority of their ‘lessons’ took place, the table large enough for Sam’s papers and books to spread along comfortably._

_“Christo.” The Latin felt heavy against his tongue. At least it was just one word- a hell of a lot easier than the exorcism ritual they’d had him trying to memorise._

_“Right. And this- this,” Sam pointed to a circle with a five-point star and an assortment of squiggles drawn inside it, “this is a devil’s trap. It’s different to the protective symbols I showed you last time. You paint it on any surface- if a demon goes in, it can’t come out- not until the symbol had been removed or broken, got it?”_

_“So a little paintwork keeps a- a demon from hell trapped in a circle?” He was sure his scepticism was tangible at this point._

_“It’s not a circle- it’s a devil’s trap. And yeah,” Sam smiled, “it works.”_

_“And then you use the exorcism ritual to send it back to hell.”_

_“Right, you got it.”_

_It sounded stupid, but really, what did he know?_

_“You won’t be doing any of that, though,” Dean piped in from somewhere behind him, “so don’t go getting any ideas. Demons- any of this stuff- it’s not a game that the good guys always win. It’s dangerous. You see anything- anything out of the ordinary, you wait it out and you call us. You don’t go after it yourself, got it?”_

_The lighter atmosphere in the room darkened once again._

_“Yeah, I get that,” Adam said, his tone bordering on defensive. He would have been more insulted at the implications of Dean’s estimation of his intelligence but he knew Dean didn’t really think highly of him anyway. “I’m not an idiot- I’ve seen what they can do.”_

_“Good,” said Dean. “Good.” He came into Adam’s eye-line, serious expression on his face as he glanced between the two younger men. “Demons- can be crafty sons of bitches- if you have your suspicions, the last think you wanna do is tip it off that you know. All shouting ‘Christo’ into a demon’s face is gonna do is get you dead real fast unless you do it without the demon realising what you’re doing, or you have a plan and backup to deal with it. You won’t be worrying about how to gank the sucker, so all you have to know is how to identify the freak before it knows it’s been made so you can get the hell out of the way.”_

_“And how do I do that?” Adam looked at Dean in confusion. “’Christo’ isn’t really a word you can disguise. You can’t really ‘accidently’ slip them holy water either.”_

_“Ah, ah, ah,” said Dean, smirk starting across his lips. “Watch.”_

_He coughed into his fist._

_“Heh- Dean, you can’t be seri-” Sam was cut off by another cough from Dean, and then another. The tallest Winchester leaned back on his chair, head curved back as he laughed. “You are serious.”_

_Dean’s smirk grew a few more inches, and Adam looked between the two in confusion._

_“What are you-?” And then it dawned on him. He choked- it really was getting too ridiculous now. “What- you call that move the ‘Christo Cough’ or something? That actually works? You’re joking.” He laughed, and it was somewhat of a hoarse sound- it was the first time he’d laughed properly since his mother had gone missing, actually._

_“Hey, hey, enough of the laughing- it’s foolproof, so the both of you should be able to pick it up easy.”_

_Dean was smirking again, and the expression grew to almost staggering levels when Adam and Sam both realised the insult and stopped laughing long enough to level twin glares at him. Dean seemed to almost puff up; he stared long at Adam, as if seeing something in his face that he hadn’t been expecting, then at Sam, before turning away and letting out his own huff of laughter._

_“Well, would you look at that, eh, Sammy? Looks like the bitchface runs in the family.”_

_Well Adam hadn’t been expecting that. Dean seemed hesitant to include anyone else into his family- much like Adam himself on that front, but there Dean was. It was a small comment, but from Dean, it was a significant one. Adam shifted uncomfortably and looked away._

_Sam rolled his eyes, determined to keep the mood light. “So, how many times did coughing in the face of a demon- sorry, the ‘Christo Cough’ work for you, Dean?” Sam was a mixture of ire and amusement, and seemed poised to jump down Dean’s throat the first chance he got. Adam supposed the two needled each other quite a lot- Sam had explained that the two spent a lot of time together on the road. Considering the clash of personalities, that really must have been something._

_“Well,” Dean’s smirk dropped. “Maybe once so far- but- but-” Sam had burst out laughing again. “Hey, demons know who we are- they’re just looking for an excuse to know they’ve been made so they can ice us. Adam- they won’t be expecting it from him- as far as they’re concerned he’s another clueless mook. It’ll work for him- it’ll work.”_

_Sam pulled himself together, talking a few breaths to steady himself. “Yeah. Yeah, Adam he’s probably right there. So I guess we’re teaching you the ‘Christo Cough.’” He started laughing again._

_Dean threw a pen at him._

  

† † † 

 

Eventually, the time he spent with the Winchesters came to an end, and as promised, they were ready to go their separate ways. Sam and Dean had packed up and loaded their car on Saturday evening and the three were left standing awkwardly out front. 

“You sure you don’t want us to stay ‘til tomorrow?” Sam asked. 

“It’s fine,” said Adam. 

“Kid needs his own space and we really need to hit the road, Sam,” said Dean, slamming the trunk of his car shut. “He’ll be fine.” 

Sam seemed to almost shuffle a little closer, ducking his head and giving a small smile. He held out his hand and Adam took it, gripping it tightly. 

“You sure you don’t want to come with? We could always use another hand.”  

“No,” said Adam, “I... think I’m better off at school.” And he’d had enough of the supernatural to last a lifetime. 

Sam’s smile turned a little disappointed, as if he’d held out hope ‘til the last second that Adam would change his mind, but the look was fleeting, and he clapped Adam on the shoulder with his other hand. “Ok, then, if that’s what you want... it was nice meeting you, Adam. Take care of yourself- and don’t be a stranger- call us if you need anything. Anytime. I mean it. We’ll check up on you from time to time, all right?” 

“You don’t have to do that,” muttered Adam, pulling his hand free 

“We want to.” 

Adam swallowed, looking at Sam. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that what Sam and Dean did didn’t have a high mortality rate- how could it? They dealt with monsters like ghouls- and worse- on a day-to-day basis. He jammed his hands into his pockets, jerking his head away. 

“Are you really trying to stop the apocalypse?” 

It was a topic that Dean had mentioned in passing at the start that the three of them had studiously skirted around ever since. The question had hung unasked over every ‘lesson’ that he had been taught, and he supposed now was as good a time as any to get an answer. 

“It’s... complicated,” said Sam, his eyes flickering to Dean momentarily before focussing back on Adam. “We’re trying to stop it. We will stop it.” The smile he gave was meant to be reassuring, but it didn’t help calm the jitter that had started to crawl over Adam’s skin in the slightest. “Take care, Adam.” 

Sam got into the car. 

“And if we don’t. We’re taking out as many evil sons of bitches as we possibly can,” said Dean from behind him, “so don’t worry about it.” 

“I’d slow you down,” said Adam, trying to quell the nausea that was burning in his stomach. He couldn’t possibly be thinking about going with them, not after what happened to his mother- 

“Yeah, you would,” said Dean. He made to get into the car, but stopped, heaving a sigh and letting the door fall shut again. He turned to Adam looking conflicted as he did. “For the record- it’s not about liking you, kid. I don’t- what dad did... it doesn’t matter-” and Dean looked as if the words were physically paining him to say. “He wanted a different life for you. You’re family-” was he trying to convince himself or Adam?- “It’s all any of us have left, and hell, the world might even end soon, so what’s the point in... arguing over it? You take care of yourself Adam. Make... dad proud.” His speech was gruff, and like Sam had before him, Dean stuck a hand out. 

Adam took it, feeling strange. Again, the words were not something he’d expected from Dean, and he shifted, trying to disguise his discomfort. “Uh... thanks, Dean. I’ll... keep that in mind.” It might be the last time he’d ever see them- and a small part of himself was sad to see them go. He had become used to their presence in his life. For having met them only nine days ago, they’d made a sizeable impact. “Good- good luck with... the apocalypse and everything.” Boy, he hoped that didn’t sound as stupid coming out of his mouth as it did in his head. Knowing his luck, it probably sounded worse. What else did someone say to long-lost brothers going off to stop the apocalypse? The situation didn’t exactly come with a handbook. 

Dean gave him a long look, head tilting back just a fraction as the smallest smile flitted across his face. Adam heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like: _“As big a dork as Sammy,  I swear...”_ before Dean gave him a little shove, smirk fully back in place. Adam could swear that was Dean’s default expression, and he rolled his eyes. 

“Look after yourself, kid. We’ll be seeing you.” 

The car door slammed behind him, and after a muted _“shut up, Sammy,”_ rock music crackled out from behind drawn down windows, and the Impala peeled away, screaming down the road. 

Adam watched it until it was out of sight.

 

† † †

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, about five lines back the original interaction with Dean and Adam was this: “Dean gave him a long look, scoffed, and Adam was suddenly jerked forwards into the most awkward hug of his life. He was let go just as fast, and Dean cleared his throat.” before I realised that that was wayyyy too easy and my characterisation was being too inconsistent. Sad times. Maybe next time.
> 
> And yeah, that blood on Sam’s shirt got there after he’d been visiting Ruby.
> 
> I was gonna post this tomorrow, but I FINALLY got a job and I’m really happy, so I figured... why not? Thanks to everyone who’s following/favouriting/bookmarking this and reviewing- it means a lot. Sorry to those who are commenting as anons or guests- I have no way to reply to you unless you have a username/email, but the comments are still very much appreciated. If all goes well, I’ll see you all next Wednesday- have a great week!


	5. Regression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: ‘Supernatural’ is the property of Warner Brothers, the CW, and other associated parties. I claim no ownership of the franchise, characters or settings, nor am I affiliated with the above parties in any way. The following is a fan-work, written for my amusement, and not for material or monetary gain. Please support the official releases. (I don’t own this).
> 
> Technically a day late- apologies... life- but it is the longest chapter to date, so that’s something. I’ve never really used Google Maps for anything but checking out where I live, but for this chapter, I used it to creep around the University of Wisconsin... that was pretty funky. The university is MAHOOSIVE and... fun fact...! There’s a place right there called... get this... ‘Adam’s Hall’. HA! ...I think I need a lie down.
> 
>  
> 
> Incidentally, this chapter was comparatively harder to write than the others because I was realllllly looking forward to writing the next one and the one after that. Have been since I started on this project. So exciting!~

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**Coalescence**

**Chapter 5: Regression**

 

† † †

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.

.

 

**||Sunday March 01 2009: 18:34**

**||Outside the Elizabeth Waters Hall, University of Wisconsin, Madison**  

Adam eased into a parking space and got out of the car. He’d made good time, and it was early evening- his roommate would most definitely be in right then- most likely most of the people in his block would be in or getting in about then to get ready for Monday. 

He stared up at the building he’d be spending the next few months in. The Elizabeth Waters halls had been a home away from home to him for the past couple of months. Near enough to the student unions, the lecture halls and libraries not to mention the lakeshore and other housing facilities, Adam had been lucky to apply and get a place there first time. It was convenient- all round perfect, really. 

University had held a great deal of meaning to him not even a year ago- he’d worked damn hard to get into the school and had made some great friends there. His mom had been proud of him, and he was on the right track to getting into medical school. 

Staring at the building now? 

Funny how his ambitions felt so paltry all of a sudden.

  

† † †

  

**||Sunday March 01 2009: 21:13**

**||Somewhere in Minnesota**

“Well if it isn’t our own little version of the Hardy Boys. Fancy seeing you here!” 

He was a middle-aged man, in his fifties, perhaps, and he was dressed immaculately in a black fitted suit, complete with a silver chequered tie. As soon as he’d entered the dingy little cafe something about him had set Dean’s nerves on edge. He’d been proved right, too- the man had made a bee-line for their table, and all of a sudden the buzz of civilisation seemed to fall away as the room froze; Sam, Dean and their newest arrival seeming to be the only ones able to move. They wasted no time getting to their feet, guns drawn. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” the man waved a finger. “You’ve been giving the kids quite a little run-around- it’s my turn now.” 

He snapped his fingers and their worlds were engulfed in a bright white light. 

 

† † † 

**||Monday March 01 2009: 06:00**

**||Columbus, Ohio**  

Dean Smith fumbled for the chiming alarm clock and switched it off. He rolled out of bed, giving a long stretch and groaning as the kinks of sleep were worked out of his body. Today was the day he started at Sandover as the Director of Sales and Marketing. Dream job. It was like his whole life had been leading him up to this moment. He grinned brightly, striding towards the shower.

 

† † †

  

**||Monday March 01 2009: 07:53**

**||Elizabeth Waters Hall, University of Wisconsin, Madison**  

Adam bolted upright as a something smacked him in the face. “What-?” 

Terror like he’d never felt before- he should have known better than to let his guard down- 

“Ah, you’re up. Good.” 

A few seconds of blinking wildly and the room came into focus. His hands were clenched and he felt sick. 

“Earth to Adam? You said to wait ‘til morning- you’re lucky I let you sleep this long. Get up- come on.” 

Adam exhaled a shaky breath, struggling to calm his beating heart. Dominic. Just Dominic. A serious looking Dominic at that. One who looked like he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Adam had seen Dominic in these kinds of moods before. There was no reasoning with his roommate when he was like this, and he sure as hell didn’t have the energy to try. Dominic had practically jumped on him when he realised the other bed in the room was occupied the night before, and Adam had only been allowed to sleep once he promised that he’d answer his roommate’s questions in the morning.   

A great deal of messages that Adam had deleted from his phone were from Dominic himself- he was one of the first friends that Adam had made when he arrived at University. If anything, he at least owed him an explanation. Not that he wouldn’t try to drag it out as long as he could. He flopped back under the covers. 

“Can I at least have breakfast first?” 

Dominic rolled his eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh before he strode out of the shared room. Not a minute later, Adam heard the door swing open once again, a small weight thumping against his head with the arrival. He peered around the blanket covering his eyes, Adam picked up the box of cereal that Dominic had thrown at him. Lucky Charms. Ha. Good enough, he supposed. He sat up and opened the box. 

“One of the girls in the year up lives in Windom same as you,” said Dominic from across the room. Adam popped a few pieces of cereal into his mouth. “She said... some stuff.” Dominic shuffled, very obviously uncomfortable, and moved to settle on the other bed in the room. He added, more quietly, “I heard about your mom. It was in the papers, too.” 

 _Crunch._ Adam swallowed. He reached into the box for some more cereal. 

“You don’t look like you got off too easy, either.” Dominic gestured to the bandages still covering Adam’s arms. “What happened to you? Why are you even back, man? Should have stayed off ‘til the end of Spring Break at least- you look like you should still be in hospital or somethin’.” He had his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. 

Adam’s lips gave a small twitch. He waved one of his arms, ignoring the twinge of pain in it. “Not as bad as it looks.” His mother had got it worse. 

“Biology’s not _that_ important, bro.” 

“Life doesn’t stop just because my mom isn’t... around anymore, Dom,” Adam drawled steadily. “It’s what she would have wanted, anyway. And it was better than staying home.” 

The one night he’d spent there entirely alone after Sam and Dean had left, he’d spent awake the whole time. 

He still hadn’t had the courage to go into his mother’s room.       

Dominic was looking a little lost for words. He didn’t know what to say, and Adam could empathise with that on some level. They’d only really known each other since September- and sure they’d hit it off, but even if they were friends, what would anyone be able to say to someone who’d lost a parent? His mother- and hell, he hadn’t really even thought about John’s death, but there was that too. He hadn’t even asked how it had happened. What kind of person did that make him? What could Dominic say to any of that? He didn’t know the half of it. 

“Look, I don’t really want... to talk about it, ok?” 

“Ok,” said Dominic, shrugging. “I’m not gonna make you talk- I’ll leave that to your girl. Just wanted to see if you were all right for myself.” 

“I’m fine,” said Adam, rolling his neck. 

“Good man.” Dominic flopped back on his bed, his feet dangling off the edge. “You’re gonna be in for a lot of questions today, ya know. From Imogen, especially,” he commented at the ceiling. 

Imogen. His girlfriend of about a month or so. Kinda. A fair chunk of the texts he’d deleted had been from her, too. 

“She know I’m back yet?” 

“Everyone knows you’re back, bro. I’m surprised she hasn’t broken the door down already- she was pretty worried.” 

Adam sighed. There went his plan to ease back into life at uni. Not that he was planning to avoid everyone, but... “Breaking down doors isn’t Imogen’s style.” 

“Nah, you’re right. She’d probably talk it down into opening itself.” 

Adam threw a pillow at him. Imogen was majoring psychology, and she was big on talking and feelings in general. He was dreading being in the same room as her anytime soon. 

Dom laughed. 

The moment passed and Dominic shifted. “You talked to any of the professors yet?” 

They were moving away from talk of Windom, and Adam relaxed. He could do that. “Meeting them today- I emailed them a few days ago. You have a copy of the notes from what I missed, by the way?” 

“Yeah, I can just photocopy mine, it’s all good.” 

“Thanks.” Going back to normalcy would be good. 

“Ain’t a problem. 

There was a quiet knock on the door and the handle was pulled down. It slowly swung open, bringing a face that he hadn’t wanted to be confronted with so soon. 

Imogen stood in the doorway in all her red-haired glory. 

“Adam?” 

The room suddenly felt too crowded. “...Hey.” 

She walked forward, settling on the edge of his bed before leaning forward and throwing her arms around him. He winced as she pressed along his injuries, and she drew back, he hands going to his hair, his face, and then down his arms until her fingers were twined with his. This close, he could see every freckle on her light skin. 

“I heard what happened. I’m so _sorry,_ Adam,” she said, her pretty face alight with sympathy- with _pity-_ as she took in the sorry state of him. He straightened his back, frowning. 

“It’s...” It wasn’t ok, not by a long shot. But he really, really didn’t want to talk about it. He hadn’t with Sam or Dean. He didn’t want to with Dom. Not with Imogen, either. He didn’t want to talk about the lie, and she wouldn’t understand the truth, so what was the point? 

“I’ll leave you to it,” said Dom, springing up from the bed and leaving the room. 

“I was worried about you.” 

“Yeah, I...” If he was truthful, he hadn’t given a single thought to her while he was in the coffin. She was his girlfriend, and before that, for months and months, his friend, and he hadn’t thought of her once. Not even when he was out. He was pretty sure that made him some sort of jackass. 

“How are you handling things- you know, with your mom..?” 

Adam shrugged, pulling his fingers from hers. He needed space, but she was leaning in, and Adam got out of the bed. She looked hurt, sitting straighter as he hands folded neatly into her lap. She looked up at him. 

“What is it?” 

“Nothing, it’s... don’t you have a lecture right now?” Utterly tactless of him, and pretty damn rude, too. He didn’t know what was wrong with him.  

“You want me to go?” 

“No-” and he didn’t, not really, but he didn’t want her to stay if she was going to suffocate him with questions. “I- look, Imogen, I just... don’t want to talk about what happened, or how I’m dealing with it, or anything, all right? Look- my mom- I know what happened. And I’m dealing with it. Ok?” 

“Ok,” she said, getting to her feet. She still looked worried, damnit- he hated that look, he’d had enough of it since his mother’s funeral. Imogen’s eyebrows were drawn down, and she’d caught her lip between her teeth. She slowly walked towards him, her arms reaching around his middle carefully and tucking her head under his chin. “I’m just glad you’re back,” she said quietly, “and you know when I am when you do want to talk.” 

“Yeah,” said Adam, slowly drawing his arms around her. 

He still felt cold. 

 

† † †

  

And so he had the meetings with the staff, shook off the suggestions that he should speak to the on-campus councillor, and became as accustomed to the looks of pity that were sent his way from person to person as more people than ever before found out who he was. 

It got harder and harder each passing day.

  

† † †

  

**||Wednesay March 11 2009: 17:22**

**||Sunroom Cafe, University of Wisconsin, Madison**  

Life went on and the next few days were a blur of night terrors, classes, and pity being thrown at him from all directions. Inane chatter filled the gaps, something that he was not really expected to take part in, so he didn’t. What did he care for sports, gossip, cars, people, when he knew what he now knew? The many kinds of monsters were on his mind more often than not, and that didn’t make him any better a listener. Interactions were awkward, and he was on edge enough to snap at comments he knew shouldn’t be getting to him, but were. He was better off keeping quiet. Thinking. So Imogen talked about classes, Dominic and Kathy about sports, Max about girls, Ben about books, and Adam sat back and kept quiet. 

He appreciated the respite, but all too soon the subject of Spring Break was coming up. He’d only been back ten days. Spring Break started in two. 

“You fine with me not sticking around? I mean, I could if you wanted the company. You might need help going over all the notes I gave you anyway.” 

Dominic was looking over at him from across the table they were all sharing, and Adam slowly blinked, the words passing over his head. “What?” 

“Spring Break,” Imogen gently prompted. “I’ll stay with you, too. Or you could spend it in Duluth at mine?” 

The way that they were looking at him right then- the way that everyone was always looking at him, treading lightly around him like he was something delicate, was getting on his nerves. 

“No. No- it’s fine. The both of you go home.” 

“You sure?” Dominic asked. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.” He barely refrained from rolling his eyes.    

“We don’t mind staying, Adam, really-” 

 _Oh for crying out loud-_ “I don’t need a babysitter,” he snapped out. 

“That’s not what we were implying at all, Adam!” Imogen snapped back, matching his ire. 

“ _Really.”_ He found that hard to believe. 

“Yeah, _really_ ,” she said, sitting straighter in her chair and managing to simultaneously put both anger and hurt into her voice in equal parts. “We don’t want you to be by yourself because we care about you, not because we think you’ll do something stupid- why is that such a bad thing?” 

Well, it wasn’t. Not put like that, and Adam didn’t know why he’d gotten so irritated. He rubbed at his forehead, taking a long breath out and tried to calm down. “Look, I’m- _sorry-_ all right?” 

“It’s cool.” Dominic shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Just try to chill out a little, bro. We’re not the enemies here, so don’t go treating us all like we are.” 

He’d been snapping at them all in equal amounts, and he knew he was wrong for it. 

“Ok. Ok. I know, ok?” He just couldn’t stop doing it. He nodded, reaching out across the table to take Imogen’s hand. “I’m sorry.” 

She gave him a small smile. “It’s ok.” 

“I just- I don’t need you to stay. I’m not staying here over Spring Break, anyway. But, uh- thanks. For the offers.” 

“What? Why- where are you going?” Imogen sounded genuinely surprised. 

He shrugged, trying to force as much nonchalance into his voice and posture as he possibly could. “Home. It’s my house now- I need to look after it.” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked quietly, and Adam quashed the burst of irritation he felt at it ruthlessly. 

“Yeah. I have a lot to catch up on anyway-” he nodded at Dominic at that, and it was true- he’d fallen behind the days that he’d missed, and it was hindering his understanding in class now, “-so I’ll be busy with that. Don’t worry about it.” 

“If you’re sure...” she didn’t sound convinced, but Max and Ben crashed back down at the table with their ordered sandwiches and the conversation was over. 

 

† † †

  

**||Saturday March 14 2009: 19:12**

**||Milligan Residence, Windom**  

He shut the door behind him, pushing down on his trepidation and making his way into the living room. 

The tables were already covered in a thin layer of dust. He felt sick. He sighed, striding over to the windows and throwing them open. The air flowed in, immediately replacing the staleness that had been overwhelming him moments before, and Adam sunk into the sofa. He threw his travel bag and keys onto the table, toeing his shows off in the process. Just because his mother was no longer there to tell him so, didn’t mean shoes were allowed in the chair. She’d probably come back from beyond the grave to smack him upside the head if he ever got mud on the upholstery- and the thought of that would have been comical if he didn’t know that that was probably a real possibility with the way that she had died, thanks to the little lessons Sam and Dean had been giving him. The thought didn’t cheer him one whit, and he curled up on the sofa and closed his eyes, the silence of the house seeming to swell to impossible heights. 

He phone buzzed, breaking the silence and he pulled it from his pocket, unlocking the screen to see a barrage of new messages- from Dominic and Imogen, as well as from Max, and even one from Ben. He didn’t open any of them, instead switching to his contacts list and scrolling down to ‘W’. Winchester. Past Dean, he hovered over the option to call Sam. 

 _Call us anytime,_ Sam had said. He didn’t want to call them, though. Speaking to them face to face was awkward enough, he had enough mind to realise a phone call would probably go down in a pretty similar way, and he rolled his eyes, shifting onto his back on the chair. What to say, what to say? In the end it was simple.

 _Adam: Hey Sam. How’s things?_  

He felt a stab of disquiet as soon as the message was sent, and sat up, tossing his phone onto the table and grabbing his keys. 

The front door slammed shut behind him. 

 

† † †

 

**||Saturday March 14 2009: 19:32**

**||Columbus, Ohio**  

 _Buzz._  

Sam Wesson jerked from his sleep at the sound. He glanced at his watch, grimacing at the time. Asleep on a Saturday, and it wasn’t even eight yet? It had been a long week, though, and the weird dreams hadn’t helped... 

He shifted on the hard couch, trying to get comfortable, and groped at his side for his phone. 

 _Adam: Hey Sam. How’s things?_

Sam squinted at the message in confusion. Who the hell was Adam? 

He groaned, exiting the message and tossed his phone over his shoulder, rolling onto his side and closing his eyes. 

A few minutes later and Sam was snoring softly once again.

  

  † † †

**||Wednesday March 19 2009, 18:10**

**||Milligan Residence, Windom**  

Sam still hadn’t replied, but Adam hadn’t held much hope that he would. The whole _‘we’re family’_ spiel was flimsy at best; he had doubted it would hold up to distance. Added to the low mortality rate of ‘hunting’... 

Adam was doing his best not to think about it. 

Denial was a state he was getting too comfortable with and it was time to do something about it. 

He opened his eyes, letting out a slow sigh and after a full five days at home doing his best to ignore its existence, he finally pushed the door to his mother’s room open. 

The room was empty; as empty as the rest of the house, and he hadn’t expected otherwise, but it still hurt. 

The bed was a mess, the sheets having been ripped from it by Dean, and the comforter in a heap on the floor. He moved with mechanical jerkiness, hefting it up and making the bed as best as he could before he moved to the windows, pushing the curtains aside and sliding the window open to let some air into the room. 

He moved past the bookcase and to her closet next, going for the top where she kept a file full of important documents, next to which she kept box of what she had once told him were her most important mementos. He’d never seen inside it.   

He grabbed the box (and it was lighter than he had expected) and sat on the edge of the bed, setting it beside him. He lifted the lid and was greeted with a mess of objects. One, a stack of what looked to be drawings Adam had made his mother as a child. They were terrible. Two, two photo albums. Three, a stack of cards, from ' _it's a boy!'_ to  _'happy birthday!'_ in occasion. Four, a battered copy of J. M. Barrie's  _Peter Pan_  that she had read to him night after night when he was a child. She had said it was her favourite book. And five, a small jewellery box which held a simple silver band inside. He wondered who that had been from. He fingered through the badly drawn art from his younger years with a touch of a smile on his face before moving to the albums, peeling them open. 

He was faced with photo after photo of his own face through the ages. His mother was in just as many photographs, and a few even featured John. For a family of two and a half, his mother sure had filled the pages. Adam hadn’t looked at the albums in some time, and his eyes roved the pages, drinking in the many details. 

...They were happy. 

His eyes came to rest on a photo at the end of the second album. It had been taken a few months before his graduation of high school, when he’d finally earned the rank of Eagle Scout. His mother had been so proud, and her arms were thrown around him as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Adam, for his part, had a stupid mix of a grin and grimace on his face as he kept a tight hold of the badge with one hand, and flailed in his mother’s grasp. 

He didn’t remember who took the photo. He smiled a little wider at it anyways, the expression feeling odd on his face. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been staring at the photo before he caught sight of something behind the album, etched into the floor of the room. 

Were they... _scratches?_

He slid off the bed, setting the album down and reaching for the marks on the floor. His fingers ran over the thin grooves in the wood. 

They _were_ scratches. 

With a grunt, he pushed the bed back, and with horror he saw that the scratches dragged all the way from the edge of the bed... to the vent beneath it.

 _This was where they’d taken her._  

He felt sick. 

He grabbed the album and rocketed backwards away from the scratches, only stopping when he hit the bedside cabinet. There was a clatter and Adam started, head snapping round to stare at the photo-frame that had fallen from the cabinet when he’d lurched into it. He reached for it with shaking fingers, flipping it and twitching when he saw the smiling face- 

 _John Winchester’s_ smiling face. 

He didn’t have to think very hard to remember what the ghouls had said- the words were playing on a loop in his head every night. _“This- all of this- you can thank John Winchester for it all-”_  

And God, she was dead because he didn’t _know_ \- because John Winchester hadn’t told them- 

The wound on his arm gave a particularly violent throb. 

With a barely repressed retch, he threw the frame across the room with all his might. It hit the wardrobe full force, the glass shattering over the floor. 

He was shaking, his fists tight and blood thumping in his eardrums. The heat was back, more stifling than ever before and this time he did nothing to hold it back as it fought to consume him, burning in his eyes.  

Adam curled in on himself and finally wept.

  

  † † †

 

**||Friday March 21 2009, 13:30**

**||Milligan Residence, Windom**  

“Four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a dining room and a living room, a double garage, drive, and a front and back yard. Well furnished and spacey, and in a great location- I can see this property being snapped up pretty fast, Mr. Milligan. If you’re looking to up the price, cleaning it up a little more might be some use.” The estate agent gave a pointed look at the dusty furniture and salt lining the windowsill in the living room. He’d been using what the Winchesters had taught him. “How soon are you looking to move?” 

“Uh, I’m at school until the end of May- I’d prefer it to be done before then. I don’t really want to come back here. Too many... memories.” Adam shifted. The decision to sell the house had been a hasty one, but the little episode he’d had in his mother’s room a few days before had helped clear his head. He no longer liked being in the house, and saw no future for himself there. 

He’d been forced to go to an estate agent for help when it came to the house- honestly, he didn’t have any idea about how the whole property market worked, but since sorting his mother’s room, he’d had enough of knocking about in the house on his own. It was eerie and without his mother, there was no feeling of home or peace left to be found in it. Every inch of it came with another memory, and he would drown in them if he didn’t leave. 

Selling it- he couldn’t deny that it felt wrong; it was the only home that Adam had ever known, and his mother had worked hard for it, but on his own there was no use for it. It was time to move on. 

“Ah, yes.” The woman gave him what was meant to be a sympathetic smile, but it came across as more condescending and fake. “I’d heard about the tragic circumstances. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“Yeah. Thanks,” he returned flatly. 

Platitudes done with, it was back to business. “Will you be taking the furniture with you?” 

What use would he have for it all? “I’ll get rid of as much of it as I can, but I’m only here for a few more days. I’m taking what I need, so most of it will still be here. Is that- will that be a problem?” 

He really didn’t want to have to come back to the house. 

“Honestly, it depends on the buyers and what they want from the property, Mr. Milligan- people are a mixed bunch. Most people appreciate a little furniture, though- new families especially.” 

“Right.” And now it came for his other problem. “Is there any way I can sell it for cash only? I have savings- my- my mom did too, but if I’m looking to buy an apartment or something, they probably won’t last long, you know?” 

He’d never had to worry about money before, not really. Even when he’d grown up, realised the reality that his mother was a single parent most of the time, his mother had forced it into his head that the house income wasn’t something for him to worry about. That didn’t stop him getting a job as soon as he was able so that he could contribute, but moneywise, they’d never really had it _that_ bad. Now, though- he was acutely aware that he didn’t have his mother to fall back on. 

He didn’t have a job anymore- he’d quit when he’d started university. The combined savings of his mother and himself were static, an amount of money that was only ever dwindling. It had been a bit of a shock to realise that he was still being billed for water, electricity and gas for what was effectively an _empty_ house. The thought of _house bills_ hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

“Yes, of course, I understand where you’re coming from. We’ll see what we can do for you.” 

“Thanks.” 

Two days later, he’d left the key to the house with Myra to use when prospective buyers came a-knocking. Some of the loose furniture he’d been able to shift had been sold and delivered to the various antique shops his mother had brought them from over the years, same for some of the more expensive jewellery she owned. It felt wrong to profit from her personal belongings, but he pushed past the feeling. He was on his own now. 

Her car stayed in the hospital parking lot- he still hadn’t gone to fetch it. Her clothes and shoes went to charity shops, same for the small decorative pieces sitting on various shelves behind glass partitions. Her books were donated to the local library he’d helped refurbish for his Eagle Scout Service Project, save for the battered copy of Peter Pan from her box of mementoes- that, Adam held on to. 

He held onto everything in that box, moving all of it, along with the files she had of important documents- birth certificates and the like, into the trunk of his car. His clothes he’d taken to university already, but he packed the baseball mitt sitting in the back of his wardrobe, as well as all the badges and paperwork he’d received as a Scout, and a snow-globe his mother had bought him when he was eight after he’d fallen out of a tree and broken his arm. There was also the one gun that the Winchesters had left him, despite Adam’s protests of not having a licence. ( _“Make sure you hide it well, then,” Dean had snapped, forcing it into his hands._ ) He’d left it stashed in the back of his wardrobe. This time it was coming with him. 

On Sunday the 23rd of March at 11am, Adam Milligan shut the door of his childhood home for the last time.   

 

  † † † 

**||Tuesday March 24 2009, 10:12**

**||Outside Stirling Hall, University of Wisconsin, Madison**  

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Mr. Milligan.” 

Adam withheld a sigh. “All I’m asking is that I be allowed to sit in on some of your lectures, Peter. I promise not to disturb any of the students on the course- I won’t even talk to them. If I do, you can ask me to leave, and I will.” He was probably laying it on a little thick there, but anything to get the job done... 

“Yes, but- Adam, was it-?” Adam nodded. “Adam, you say you’re a biology major on the pre-med track? Mythology and folklore? They’re not helpful to your educational interests in the slightest.” 

“No, no they’re not, but- I still find the subject very fascinating.” He didn’t- mythology, folklore- they’d been interesting to hear about as stories, but never something he’d had an active streak in perusing the knowledge of. Now that the creatures in them were an actual reality, it was more a case of need-to-know information rather than an indulgence of a casual hobby. 

His mother had died because he didn’t know. And now that he knew what was out there, it was best to arm himself with as much knowledge as he could. Not so that he could go on a crusade- the prospect of coming face to face with more monsters was not one that he was happily anticipating, but if it ever did come to pass, he would make sure that he was capable of protecting himself. Of protecting others. 

Internet searches to find out more on the supernatural were leading him to masses of contradictory information- why not get more information from a legitimate source? Not that he’d take everything from the mythology and folklore lectures as a solid fact, but hey, at least he was branching out. 

The professor, a greying man in his fifties, looked sceptical. “Do you not think that this would detract from your own studies? Time spent in lectures you don’t need to go to could be better spent elsewhere, Mr. Milligan.” 

And there came the irritation. He clamped down on it as best as he could. “I’d only be going to the lectures that didn’t interfere with my own ones- I don’t want to jeopardise my degree.” 

“Adam-” and the tone was enough to know that he wasn’t budging- 

“Please- Peter- sir, all I want to do is sit at the back and listen. I wouldn’t be affecting you or your students at all. I just- it gives me something else to think about. Please.” He had his eyes on his feet at the end of it, not wanting to see the rejection on the man’s face. 

The professor sighed. “All right, all right. Fine. Why you’d want to sit in a lecture hall when you don’t have to if beyond me, but what do I know of kids these days? Be sure you keep to your word, Mr. Milligan, or you’ll be out on your ear. Agreed?” 

Adam nodded in relief. “Thank you.” 

 

† † †

  

**||Friday March 27 2009, 18:22**

**||Campus Grounds, University of Wisconsin, Madison**  

“A break, huh?” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He couldn’t have said that the proposal was entirely surprising, not with how snappy he’d been as of late, but he hadn’t expected it so soon. He must have been acting more unbearable than he thought for Imogen to actually want to step back. She had bought him out for a walk on campus to break the news to him. 

Imogen looked entirely too miserable as she came to a stop. It was not an expression that suited her. “It’s not forever-not unless that’s how you feel about us when you’re feeling... better. For the record, Adam, I don’t mean this to be a permanent thing, but I think a break will be good for you. I think it’s better for you to concentrate on yourself for a while, instead of balancing everything on top of a relationship. You see where I’m coming from, right?” She sounded anxious as hell. 

Adam couldn’t help but look at her. Really look at her. He hadn’t realised how tired she herself had been looking recently. And she was watching out for him. Still. He knew he hadn’t been treating her well- not since the event that capsized his life, but she was still looking out for him. It made him feel guilty. He hadn’t tried as hard as he could have. He should have considered her feelings more. “Yeah. Yeah, I understand.” He gave her a slightly sheepish look. “I know I haven’t been very- _normal_ \- since... you know. But I’m working on it. I’m trying; it’s just...” 

Hard. It was hard. 

She smiled, touching his shoulder. “I get it Adam. It’s ok. After what happened- no-one’s expecting you to be ‘normal’ right away. Obviously something like that- it’s gonna affect you. And I’m not just... dumping you- I wouldn’t-” she floundered for a moment, brows pulling down in dismay. “I know it might look that way, but it isn’t. I care about you, Adam,” she said softly, looking away from him, “but Spring Break- it did you good. You seem- I don’t know... lighter? And it was because you needed time alone. I don’t want you to feel locked into something when you’re trying to work through... everything. And I’ll support you every step of the way, you know I will.” 

She was biting her lip at the end of that, looking far too unsure for his liking. This wasn’t... her. Her confidence had been what had drawn him to her all those months ago. The way she was being right now- this was his fault, at least partly. Debating the action for a second or two, he won out with himself, finally threading his fingers through hers and gently tugging them into a slow walk once again. 

“I know. I- care about you, too.” And he did. He just wasn’t sure how it translated now. His priorities, they were different. He liked her, he really did- he remembered how ecstatic he’d been when she’d said yes almost two months ago, but things were different now. 

Adam felt out of place, and it only made relating to those around him harder. They knew nothing of the world around them- blind to the supernatural like he was not too long ago. He couldn’t tell them- they’d think he was crazy. So they walked around blind. That ignorance- it was bliss. He would almost have been jealous, but then the image of his mother being torn to shreds would pop back into his mind, and he’d reconsider. How nice it would have been to be able to go back. But things didn’t work that way. He wet his lips. “You’re right- I did need the time to myself. Dominic was right- I should have waited ‘til after Spring Break to come back, but I didn’t want to stay in the house. But I think I’m getting... better.”  He inwardly cringed at that. It sounded pathetic. 

“I’m glad to hear that, Adam,” she said with a smile, and she leaned into him. He let her. She needed it. 

Adam wasn’t sure what he needed.

  

† † † 

 

**||Sunday March 29 2009, 23:34**

**||Columbus, Ohio**  

“My car- my baby, if there’s a single scratch on her, I swear on all that is holy that I’ll-” 

“You’ll _what,_ Dean?” Sam clambered into the Impala leaving Dean to circle it, making sure it was in one piece. Apparently satisfied, the eldest Winchester joined Sam, taking the driving seat and levelling his hands on the steering wheel as if to assure himself of the solidness of the vehicle. There was silence, and then- 

“I don’t like this.” 

“You’re telling me.” 

“Fucking _angels,_ man. _‘Zachariah’,_ now? What the hell was that? They took our _memories_ , Sam. Three weeks worth!” 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it- I was there, Dean.”   

“‘ _This isn’t a curse it’s a gift,’_ ” Dean mimicked Zachariah’s last words to him mockingly. “What a jackass.” Sam grunted in agreement. Dean stared at him. “Why aren’t you more pissed?” 

“Dean- angels- they’re not what we thought they’d be-” here, Dean snorted, “but what they want... right now, that’s what we want. We can stop it. It’s our job, right? That’s what they said.” 

“My job,” Dean corrected. “And who gives a rat’s ass what they say about that, anyway?” Sam smiled, and Dean cocked a brow up in question. “What?” 

Sam shrugged. “We’re gonna do it. We’ll stop it. It’s the job, Dean, different scale, but it’s the same game. It’s what we were made to do.” 

How far Sam had come from their first meeting in Stanford. He was practically a whole different person. Or maybe, Dean mused, maybe he was just exactly the same as he’d always been, and Dean was just seeing him differently. His own perspective had taken a hell of a turn over the years. 

Dean rolled the window down, taking in a breath of fresh, cold air. “You sound like that douchebag back there.” He bent his head back, letting out a sigh. “No, wait, you don’t. You sound like _dad_.” He snorted, sitting straight once again and shaking his head. “I used to wonder why you butted heads so much. _The job_ , Sam? The way you were with _Adam_?” The narrow-minded focus on revenge no matter the self-destruction caused along the way? Dean’s lips turned down. “Maybe I did act like dad, Sam, take the same taste in music, in clothes, but you- you’re more like him than I ever was, aren’t you? Maybe you always have been.” He started the car, keep to get as much distance between the Sandover headquarters and them as possible. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sam said, keeping his eyes on the road. 

“Take it however the hell you want.” 

Dean flicked on the radio, ending the conversation.

  

† † †

  

**||Tuesday March 31 2009, 14:03**

**||Somewhere in Madison**  

“As you can see, we have a variety of different metals and designs-” 

“Yeah, yeah, any iron?” 

The sales assistant raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Sorry, sir, no. No iron.” 

Adam bit back a groan of frustration. This jewellers was the last on the list in the immediate area around the university. “None? I read about this wrought iron jewellery- it’s meant to be pretty durable- you don’t have any of that? I just want a ring. Or a pendent. Anything, really.” He didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like a small hunk of iron was ever going to come in handy against anything. Still, the thought of having it on him felt like it would be a comfort to him, and he’d get his hands on something one way or another, if only to settle his nerves. 

“No- iron isn’t typically used in high end jewellery. It rusts far too easily, looks rather garish after a short time. Wrought iron jewellery was more of a fashion taste back in the old days; it’s a lot harder to find the authentic kind now. You’re best off looking on the internet. I’m sorry, sir. If you’re looking for a similar look, we have rings in silver, steel or platinum-” 

“Yeah, that’s nice and all, but it’s not what I want,” Adam said, cutting the clerk off. He paused, letting out an aggravated breath. “Look, I’m sorry- that was pretty rude of me. I just- really want a ring or pendent or something made out of iron, and it seems that no-one is willing to help me.” He passed a hand through his hair. “You do commissions, right? Can I commission it?” 

The assistant, still looking irritated from Adam’s previous interruption stared him down. “I’m not aware of the shop making wrought iron jewellery, sir.” 

“Well can you _check_? Thanks.” The assistant looked affronted, and Adam knew he was being rude, but he was fed up. The assistant was back five minutes later looking like he as putting on a valiant effort to be happy. 

“Seems there is a supplier, you’re in luck. We’ll have to import from England, though- and imports added to crafting tend to be pretty pricey.” 

“How pricey are we talking?” That might have thrown a spanner into the works. 

“At an estimate, anything from three hundred dollars upwards, sir.” 

Could he spare it? Adam thought it over. 

Not really, no. 

Would he spare it? 

That was another matter all together.

  

† † †

  

**||Saturday April 04 2009, 11:27**

**||Elizabeth Waters Hall, University of Wisconsin, Madison**  

“So what- you were planning on moving out without even telling me? What- you hoping I wouldn’t see you were missing? And Barnard Hall? That’s halfway across campus, what the hell, Adam?” 

Dominic looked pissed. In hindsight, Adam could have planned this all better. 

“Look, I just need my own space for a while-” 

“Your own space? Bro, you have your own space. You barely talk to any of us anymore- you don’t come out with any of us anymore- you’re always here, or in- _mythology-_ or the library. You told Imogen you were getting over it, but it doesn’t look like it. Being by yourself all the time ain’t gonna help you, man.” He sounded frustrated. Adam knew the feeling. 

Adam sighed. “I’ll come back in a few weeks or... next semester, maybe. But I need the space, Dom.” He gave a small smile. “And you need the sleep.” 

His nightmares hadn’t been disturbing just him. 

“That’s not seriously the reason you’re going into hiding, is it? I can live with a little less beauty sleep, Milligan, it’s not like I need it. You on the other hand...” 

Adam rolled his eyes. “Funny.” 

“Hilarious,” Dominic smirked. The moment held, broke, and Dominic sighed, rolling his shoulders. “Well there’s nothing I can do about it now, so go. But you owe me a pizza for this one, you asshole. You don’t just cut and run on a brother. It’s _rude._ ” 

Adam smiled. “Gotcha.” He shifted, one of his bags, turning to Dominic one last time. “We’re all right, yeah? I was going to tell you, but...” he hadn’t. There wasn’t even an excuse. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, jerk. Extra large, chicken, pineapple and vegetable pizza and we’re cool. Now get outta my room.” 

Adam grinned. “Thanks, man.” 

Dom flipped him the bird. 

 

† † †

  

 **||Tuesday April 07 2009**

The house sold for a hundred and nineteen thousand dollars. Cash.

  

† † †

  

**||Sunday April 12 2009, 23:57**

**||Barnard Hall, University of Wisconsin, Madison**  

Adam’s head lay nestled cushioned on a thick science tome. He slept.

  

† † †

  

**||Sunday April 12 2009, 00:23**

**||Muir Woods, University of Wisconsin, Madison**  

 _Meet me in the woods at midnight,_ she’d said, _just follow the trail to the clearing, I have a surprise for you._ Romance clearly wasn’t dead, but... there had been better ideas.

Richard Weir had reached the clearing on time. His girlfriend, Jenny, had been nowhere to be seen, and his cell phone was refusing to co-operate so he couldn’t even call her. Truth be told, he was staring to get a little worried. The woods were creepy at night. It was just too _dark._ “Jenny? Come on, get out here, it’s not funny anymore.” 

A twig snapped somewhere behind him, and he spun to face the noise. 

“...Jenny?” 

He could see the shadow of her silhouette as she slowly _staggered_ out from behind a thicket.“R-Richie...” She sounded like she had been crying. This was wrong. 

“Jenny? What- what happened?” He rushed toward her, but not fast enough. She fell. She didn’t get up. 

“Jenny!” He grabbed her shoulders- _why are they wet?_ \- turned her round, and his eyes widened in horror as the moonlight caught her front. She was bleeding. From everywhere. “Jenny. Jenny, _no-_ what- _who?_ Oh God- _”_     

“R-Richie,” Jenny forced out, her voice a wet whisper, “ _run.”_

  

† † †

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End half of Sam and Dean’s conversation in the latter part of the chapter was paraphrased from canon 4x19: Jump the Shark. And yeah, they were living through the episode It’s a Wonderful Life, here.
> 
> The amount of time I spent researching it- the American schooling system is so complicated. Or maybe I’m just thick... which is always a real possibility, I suppose. On the plus side- the University of Wisconsin has a nice, easily navigated website! ...The sad thing is, not much of what I researched is even gonna make it into this fic. I just like complicating my life. Le sigh. If there are any major mistakes in accuracy when it comes to the university’s degree info, do tell- I’ll do my best to fix it. I think I nailed it, though. UW doesn’t really offer a Mythology and Folklore class as far as my research shows- though it does offer a Folklore class on its own. 
> 
> I understand this chapter will probably be considered pretty boring, but it was necessary. Things should speed up from here on out! I hope I haven’t lost you all yet! See you guys next Wednesday~


	6. Skulking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: ‘Supernatural’ is the property of Warner Brothers, the CW, and other associated parties. I claim no ownership of the franchise, characters or settings, nor am I affiliated with the above parties in any way. The following is a fan-work, written for my amusement, and not for material or monetary gain. Please support the official releases. (I don’t own this).
> 
> Oh my God, Wimbledon was amaaaaaazing. Do you have any idea how much I cried when Andy Murray won? DO YOU? Djokovic put up a great game and it was so close, but damn, I’m so happy Murray won! I never thought I’d see Britain win Wimbledon in my lifetime but it finally happened! Now all I need is for England to win the world cup before I die- (that needs a miracle to happen- they have a hell of a lot of work to do before they get there). Oh man, oh man, I wrote this whole chapter on the high from the tennis on Sunday.

 

 

 

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**Coalescence**

**Chapter 6: Skulking**

† † †

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**||Tuesday April 14 2009: 11:02**

**||Somewhere in Iowa**

"Hey, hurry it up in there, Cinderella- we got a case," Dean called. He was sat at the small table in the latest motel they'd crashed at, Sam's laptop open in front of him.

"Yeah? Where?" Sam walked out of the bathroom, settling on the end of the bed. He grabbed the duffel bag at his feet and lifted it onto the bed, beginning to fill it with whatever belongings of his that had made it out during the course of their stay.

"Check this." Dean cleared his throat. "Jennifer Tanner, stabbed a total of-  _11 times_  a few days ago on a trail in the Muir Woods."

"Grisly." Sam looked up. "What else?"

Dean leaned back in his chair. "What, that's not enough?"

"What? No- no." Sam looked confused. "You know- what's the pattern? Or are we going off of a one off? What are we after?"

"Angry spirit, maybe?" Dean shrugged, "Not too far from here- should be worth checking out."

That was a non-answer. Sam quirked his brow, crossing the room in three easy strides and turned the laptop around so he could see the screen. "Muir Woods... Part of the campus of the University of Wis... Wisconsin?" He shot a look at Dean, who squirmed. "Really, Dean? You sure you're not... reaching... here?" The words were hesitant- Sam knew better than anyone how well Dean coped with emotions being brought up. Adam wasn't a subject they bought up much at all.

Dean looked affronted. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing... nothing," Sam muttered. "You were saying?"

"Yeah, here- look." He pulled up a few other web pages, shoving the laptop in Sam's direction once again. "Look. Tianna James, Mark Bowman, Joanna Cameron, April '98- death by multiple stab wounds and found in the Muir Woods. Edith Pelham and Joshua Cross, April '87, death by multiple stab wounds, again in the same place... It carries on like that, one or more deaths between the twelfth and nineteenth of April, every six, eleven, eleven years, all the way back to like- 1931, like its cycling or something. Gotta admit that's weird."

Sam looked impressed. "You're right. That- that is weird."

"Right?"

"Uh- yeah." Sam pulled out his phone. "So I guess I'll call Adam and let him know we're on our way to deal with it-"

"No," said Dean loudly. "Don't call him."

Sam looked at his brother in confusion. "What? Why not? We should check in on him anyway, it's been over a month, man."

"It doesn't matter. Kid probably doesn't even know it's our kinda thing. We don't need to  _talk_  to him to check in on him, Sam."

"No- _Dean_ -"

" _Sam-_  the further away from us he is, the better, all right? You heard him for yourself- he didn't want anything to do with us- he wanted to finish school. If that's what he wants, we respect it. We are  _not_  going to make the same mistake as dad did with this kid, got it?"

Sam glared at him.

"What- you have a problem with that?" Dean asked.

He did. But he backed down. "No. No," Sam muttered, looking away.

"Good. Pack up, let's go."

 

 

 

 

† † †

**||Wednesday April 15 2009**

Adam peeled the bandages from his skin. The lacerations were now nearly completely healed, and what remained amounted to a number of ugly scars, the skin uneven and even puckered unpleasantly in places. He grimaced, pulling the shirt over his head and slipping his arms through it. Once ready, he grabbed a notebook and strode out of the single-room.

He didn't have a lecture until two. Mythology had an earlier start-up, though, and he didn't want to miss that. There was just enough time to grab breakfast.

 

 

 

 

† † †

The Impala crept into a parking space a good six blocks from the university.

Sam shot Dean a bemused look. "You're kidding, right?"

"What? Kid knows what the car looks like. You got covers planned?"

"Uh- yeah," Sam nodded, pulling out some papers from the glove box. "Grief councillors."

"... Heh heh, nice one. Really though, what are the covers?"

"What? No- I'm being serious," Sam said, looking amused. "It gives us an excuse to be on campus- let's us check up on how Adam's doing through his friends- plus, the vic has friends we could talk to. You were right about the pattern being a weird one- might be a good idea to check off the list of monsters before we head right in for it."

Dean frowned. "You know, when I said we could check in on Adam without talking to him, I meant- you know, breaking into his room, tailing him for a while- not.. Stalking his friends. That's creepy, Sammy-boy."

Sam snorted. "Right, because what you're proposing is so much less creepy."

Dean rolled his eyes. "How do you even know who the kid hangs out with?"

Sam smiled an enigmatic smile. "I have my ways..."

"... _Right._  'Course you do." Dean sighed and got out of the car.

Time to get to work.

 

 

 

 

† † †

His eyes were fixed on the last words he'd written in the notebook. He felt cold, and his fingers reached for the ring that encircled his finger, twisting it round and round and round. The weight was a comforting one.

Someone had been murdered on campus. There'd been rumours, of course- the day before, with police sweeping in and cordoning off large portions of the woods, rumours were bound to fly. But no-one knew exactly what had happened.

And now they did. The Muir woods were situated just behind his old halls... That was rather unsettling.

There was a choked off sob from somewhere in front of him as the silence of the lecture hall was broken for the first time after the news.

"Yes, I'm sure this will come as a shock to many of you," the professor said steadily. "Nonetheless, the authorities are looking into it- if you do have any information, I'm sure they'd love to hear it."

Murder on campus. And to think he'd come away from home to escape the death. His face sunk into his hands.

 

 

 

 

† † †

She was hot. Dean smiled just a little wider, sizing the woman up. Red hair that tickled the tops of her shoulders, freckles over lightly tanned skin, and big brown eyes- she was... Hot. A little too young for him, though. The man next to her, Dean's height, with dark brown hair and more narrowed eyes, shifted in discomfort.

"Are we in trouble, or...?"

Oh, it was definitely a good idea to dress sharp for this expedition.

"Oh, no," Sam assured with a small smile. "Max Gregory and... Imogen George, right?"

"Can- can we help you?" Imogen asked warily.

"I'm David Webber, this is my partner Matthew Wilson- we're here on behalf of Adam Milligan? We're his grief counselors."

The Winchesters pulled out some identification- false, of course. It should probably have been worrying that so few people knew how to really spot an official, but it made their job easier. The papers seemed to alleviate any fears the two students had left- they relaxed almost immediately.

"Kinda dressed a bit fancy for grief councelors, aren't you?" Max mumbled. Dean caught his eye with a stern look and the kid blanched, straightening. Damn if Dean couldn't be intimidating sometimes. Sam bit back a smirk. Dean was not so restrained.

"Adam's finally getting some counseling?" Imogen asked. She sounded extremely relieved. "Good. I'm glad- he needed to talk to someone, if not us."

Sam frowned at that, storing the information away for discussion later. "No," he said, "no, we had one meeting when he arrived back at university-" that much Sam knew from Adam's file. "He made reference to yourself and some of your friends- it's how we knew about you- but he didn't want to go through with sessions, so we let him be. We thought it would be good idea to follow up with his friends a little later anyway, just to see how he was doing- we all want what's best for Adam, after all."

"Yes we  _do_ ," Dean piped in, perhaps a tad too cheerily, and Sam threw him a quick look of disapproval. He herded them over to one of the benches nearby, under the shade of some trees.

"So, you're his girlfriend, yes?" Sam asked Imogen, leaning in, expression open. He saw Dean straighten up at that, and a considering look come over his face.

"Uh, we- we're on a break right now, but yes, I am." She looked a little downcast at that, and Sam's brow rose.

"A... break?" he asked.

"Yeah, he- Adam- after what happened, he was- different. And I get it," she added hastily, "-I mean, you can't go back to normal straight off after something like that- we figured it would be better for him to get his head straight first instead of, you know, trying to balance everything with his mom and then a relationship, too. And when he came back from spring break it was like he was a little better- the time alone did him some good, and that's when I figured- you know, a break might help too, so he could concentrate on himself. But now he just... He doesn't really talk to us much. He's by himself most of the time- in the science libraries or his room or something. I mean- he even transferred to a whole different building- and that was without telling Dominic- another friend of his. He doesn't even  _do_  mythology and folklore, but he goes to most of the lectures anyway-"

"I'm sorry," Sam interrupted her, "did you say  _mythology and folklore_?" It was hard to keep the incredulity from his tone; Adam had shown nothing but reluctance for what they had taught him- it was why Sam hadn't tried harder to convince him to join them. What the hell was he playing at?

"Y-yeah," Imogon said. "I don't know; it's a bit weird. It doesn't help him with biology or premed at all- but he takes so many notes. Like he's taking it more seriously than he should, I don't know..." She trailed off.

"It's fine." Sam nodded and gave the woman a reassuring smile. "Please-continue"

"There's not much more to say- it's just... when he's sitting with us, it's like... He's not really there? And I don't know how to help him."

She sounded frustrated, but she wasn't finished yet.

"I thought having a little time to himself would be good for him- but I don't think it is, and now I'm trying to fix it- I invite him out as much as I can, we all do, but most of the time he says no and I don't know what else to do. I don't know how to help him after something like that, and he doesn't talk to  _anyone_  about it."

"Well yeah," Max cut in, "but you read the papers- everyone knows what happened. Shit, man, they said that him and his mom were held in like- some torture coffin or something- it's not something you'd wanna talk about-"

"It doesn't mean that he shouldn't!" Imogen snapped. "You've seen how he is. He's angry."

The Winchesters eyed the two in front of them. Clearly the argument between them was one that they'd gone through a few times. Sam empathised- knew just how difficult it had been to get Adam to talk. The smartass that peeked out at times, the reluctance to talk about what had happened to him- maybe his circumstances had shaped some of it, but part of it  _had_ to be inborn. It reminded him of Dean in too many ways to not have been. Speaking of which...

A quick glance out of the corner of his eye at Dean showed the oldest Winchester wearing a stoic mask, any good humour on his face having melted from it during Imogen's rambling speech. The hand of his that was settled in his lap was flexing ever so slightly, the only visible sign of anxiousness his brother was putting out. Not that Sam blamed him- he wasn't exactly thrilled at what he was hearing himself. He hadn't expected sunshine and rainbows, but he hadn't expected this either. He hoped Adam would be smart with whatever he was doing.

For now, they had what they wanted from the two sitting in front of them. Sam cleared his throat, breaking Imogen and Max from their argument. They started, as if they'd forgotten they were privy to an audience.

"Right, thanks for your time. We'd appreciate if this was kept between the four of us? We'll be working with the university-" lie "-but we don't want Adam feeling cornered, I'm sure you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, man, we get it," Max nodded. "Thanks, by the way. I didn't know UW did anything like this- it's awesome."

"Just... help him? Please?" Imogen asked quietly. "And is there anything you think we should be doing? To help, I mean. It's like everything we try to do just pushes him... Further away. I hate it."

"Keep up with what you're doing," Dean replied shortly. He looked antsy, and his mood had clearly turned for the worse- the two students looked suddenly weary at the change in demeanour.

"What my partner means," Sam said loudly, trying to keep the air for decorum and professionalism intact, "is that the best thing you can do is keep trying to involve him. Bring him into some of your interests if he doesn't want to share his? Being alone can help when someone is grieving, but sometimes all it does is give someone time with enough feelings to drown themselves in." Death was an abject reality, a life that the Winchesters breathed and knew all too well. God, the time with the Mystery Spot and that year after Dean went to hell- if anyone knew what they were talking about when it came to death, Sam did. "Don't force him into anything, but don't exclude him either." He gave them a faint smile. "I realise it can be difficult to find a balance, but I have faith you'll be able to do it."

Another lie. What Adam needed was his  _family_. Maybe Dean would see it now. They should never have left him alone.

"I can do that," Max said. "Definitely some books I found he might be interested in."

"Ok," said Imogen, eyes fixed on the bench even as Sam and Dean got to their feet. "Thanks. For talking to us about this."

"It's our job, Ms. George." He handed her a dud card, quickly making the decision to scribble his own personal number at the bottom of it.

"If you have any more concerns..."

Imogen looked up. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."

 

 

 

 

† † †

"Adam!"

Adam blinked, looking around for whoever was calling him. Imogen made her way over and Adam gave her a small, practiced smile. If it looked as fake as it felt, Imogen took no notice of it.

"What is it?"

"You're coming out with us tonight."

He withheld a groan. With the news on Jenny's apparent murder, he really wasn't in the mood for this at all.

"Imogen-"

"No, Adam, I'm not taking no for an answer this time. I know I said you needed time to yourself, but you're taking it too far. You can't just stop seeing us all together. Come with us. Please?" She was pleading with him, and Adam frowned.

"Look, I dunno, 'Gen-"

"Adam, we never see you anymore..." She looked upset.

"...Where are we even going?" Adam sighed, relenting, and Imogen brightened.

"Fun fair set up by the lake," she said, slipping her arm through his. "Thanks, Adam."

"Eh."

 

 

 

 

† † †

"All right, seriously, how are you doing that?" Dean bit out after they'd talked to Adam's old roommate, Dominic.

"Doing what?"

Dean pointed behind them at Dominic, who was walking away. " _That_."

"What- talking?"

"No! How do you know who to talk to? Who his friends are? Last I checked, the two of you weren't exactly buddy-buddy. No way Adam would have told you that much." Dean looked vexed- maybe sounded even a little unsure of himself- no _way_  it was jealousy, it couldn't be.

Sam held up his phone.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Gimme a second." Dean watched as Sam fiddled with the thing for a few seconds before passing it over. He glared at the screen.

"No way."

Sam smirked.

" _Facebook?_  Adam has  _Facebook_?" The expression on Dean's face was priceless. He looked like he was sucking on a particularly bitter lemon. Sam laughed.

"Yeah, yeah he does. Wasn't too hard to figure out who to talk to once I tracked him down there. So, no- no magic, no heart to hearts, just technology, Dean. I could tell you his favourite foods, bands, people, if you like. Take your pick."

"Don't tell me you're on there too?" Dean sounded almost like he was pleading and Sam laughed even harder.

"No, no I'm not. Probably would have been harder to find anything if he had higher privacy settings- but he doesn't. Lucky for us, right?" It certainly made assuming their roles a lot easier. The information was there, ripe for the taking.

"Yeah, and any other nutjob that wants to stalk him," Dean retorted. "You're scaring me, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Hey, you wanted to do this your way."

Dean handed the phone back to his brother and shuddered. "I feel dirty."

Sam laughed.

"What are you thinking, anyway?"

"Hm?"

"About Adam," Dean added awkwardly. "What his friends are saying?"

"Oh. I dunno." Sam shrugged. "The mythology classes are a bit weird, but- I don't know, everything else seems... Normal? He's gotta still be grieving- what he went though was, uh... brutal. Gonna be hard to get over. Maybe the classes are how he's dealing with it?" That was what Dean wanted to hear, wasn't it? He'd made the call to leave, after all.

"Yeah. Maybe." He didn't sound convinced.

Good.

Sam knew his brother- his  _oldest_ brother- better than anyone else. If Dean was going to change his mind, he'd have to see the ramifications of his decisions with his own eyes. Callus, maybe, but it was how Dean worked.

"His friends," Dean said, the words halting as if they were struggling to part from his lips, "they were pretty worried about him."

"Yeah. Yeah, they were, Dean. He sounds like he's in a funk. It's not... easy. Come on- you know what it's like. Mom. Dad." Sam shrugged helplessly. "His mom was all the real family he had." Except now he had brothers. "We had each other after mom- or you had me. We had each other after dad."

"It was better for him. He didn't want in anyway." And now Dean was trying to convince himself.

"You know- when you were in the pit- I had no-one," Sam commented, voice low. "No... family, anyway. It was hard."

Sam had known what it was to experience grief without anyone else. Dean had died at the Mystery Spot and Sam had been alone. Dean had spent a year in hell and Sam had been alone. They'd abandoned Adam to the same fate consciously. It would never sit right with him.

"Adam- he should have had us, too, Dean."

Dean said nothing.

 

 

 

 

† † †

_Max: you coming then?_

_Adam: to the fair yeah_

_Adam: imogen_

_Max: hahahahaha_

_Max: still whipped?_

_Adam: Bite me_

_Max: hahahaha_

 

 

 

 

† † †

Sam and Dean kept a brisk pace as they rounded a corner, coming up to a big white building. Dean surveyed the area as they strode forward- no sign of Adam anywhere. They'd done a marvellous job of avoiding him so far.

"You sure he won't be here?"

"Yeah." Sam waved a few pieces of paper in Dean's direction. "His attendance record and timetable- he hasn't missed a single lecture since being back- and he's got one scheduled for right now. He shouldn't be there."

Dean didn't look convinced but nodded along anyways and the two made their way into the building, seamlessly passing by various students and getting no more than a second glance until they made it to the right floor.

"This one, right?" Dean inclined his head in the direction of the door, and Sam nodded. Testing the handle, they were unsurprised that it didn't budge; the door was locked. Dean eyed the surroundings quickly before crouching down and fiddling with the lock with his pick. Less than a minute later the door clicked open and Sam and Dean slipped inside, shutting it behind them.

It was a box of a room, really; Dean eyed it with distaste. It was sparsely decorated, with an unmade bed, a desk with some scraps laying atop it, and a single wardrobe with a few half-open drawers at the bottom. There was a suitcase and a few duffel bags lying at the foot of the bed, a window above the bed at the far side of the room, and Dean strode across the room, reaching for the sill.  _Salt._

"The hell?"

"What?" Sam was leaning over the desk, examining the papers strewn across the surface.

"Salt."

"Yeah, there's some by the door, too," Sam said distractedly. He held one of the papers up. "Devil's trap."

"What the hell, Sam?" He moved to the wardrobe.

"Wait- what are you doing?" Sam narrowed his eyes.

"What did you think we were here for, Sam, sightseeing? Get looking."

"For  _what_?" Sam drew back.

"Anything," Dean bit out. He opened the wardrobe, hiding from view. Sam knew better than to argue with him when he sounded like that.

Sam shrugged off any ill feelings about the blatant invasion of Adam's privacy and moved to the drawers in the desk, pawing through them as quickly and non-obtrusively as he could. Invading his Facebook was one thing- his physical privacy- his belongings, was another. Though he supposed privacy was a non-issue in his family- there was none of it, not really. Sam and Dean had invaded nearly every aspect of one another's lives- he supposed that with this, Adam was no different.

Dean was making a quick job of the wardrobe and Sam focussed on the job at hand until a sudden sound of disgust drew his attention. He glanced over at Dean questioningly, and the oldest Winchester pulled out a gun from one of the drawers at the base of the wardrobe.

"I told him to hide this properly." He looked irritated. "The wardrobe?" He scoffed. "Kid has a lot to learn." He placed the gun back in its place, pushing the drawer back to its original half-open position. Dean stepped back striding over to the bed and beginning to feel under the mattress.

Sam raised an eyebrow at the. Practiced motions. "You do this a lot?"

"What?" Dean grunted, carefully hefting the mattress up to peer beneath it. "No."

"So you didn't do this to me when I was at Stanford?"

Dean snorted. "Nah. Dad trained you - you would have seen me coming, Sammy." There was a bitterness in that, and Dean dropped the mattress back down and moved over to bags at the foot of the bed. Sam swallowed, turning back to the desk.

They'd found salt, a gun, and devil's trap doodles so far.

Sam pulled a small refillable notebook embossed in red leather from the bottom drawer in the desk. He fingered through it, letting out a low whistle.

"What?" Dean came up behind him.

Sam handed it over and Dean snatched it, flicking through it.

He saw Dean's expression darken, a figurative storm cloud appear over his head.

Notes. Annotations. References. Lots of them. On what Sam and Dean had taught him and then some. Information that they hadn't given him, protective symbols that they hadn't seen before, lore on creatures that he shouldn't have heard of or been looking into. He knew Adam had been taking lectures on mythology and folklore, but it was clear this was something beyond even that.

That wasn't to say there weren't inaccuracies- that some of the information wasn't completely wrong. The page on vampires was rife with mistakes- ( _'stabbing in the heart with a wooden stake? Too Hollywood?'_ ). But it was there, written in a spindly but readable scrawl in an array of black, blue, red and green ink. Information that Sam and Dean had given him was highlighted in bright yellow, and at the back there was even an  _appendices_.

Adam had really gone to town on this thing.

Dean's jaw was set tight. He wasn't happy. "Think he knows about the case here?" he finally asked.

"I didn't find anything to do with that."

"No guarantees, though."

"Adam's smart, Dean- we did tell him to call us if anything came up," Sam reasoned.

"Yeah, he said he wanted to come back and finish school, too. Didn't wanna get involved in this. What the hell is this, then?" He voice raised a notch and he thrust the notebook back at Sam.

"I did tell you," Sam said quietly.

"Shut up, Sam." He turned, carding his fingers through his hair in frustration. He looked like he wanted to hit something.

"The sooner we finish the case, the better." He turned, eyeing the bed and the bags he'd been rifling through. "Put it back," he said, nodding towards the notebook. "Let's get outta here, come on."

_Imogen: Hey, Adam- I forgot to tell you- we're meeting at half 8 by E/W halls? You're winning me something today- bring your A-game!_

 

 

 

 

† † †

Sam had disappeared somewhere- said he was going back to the car, but Dean wasn't done yet. No-one had given him a second glance as he'd entered the library for sciences, and that was where he'd finally caught a glimpse of Adam sitting at a table, surrounded by books. There was a look of concentration on his face as he leafed through one in front of him, and Dean watched as he fidgeted, rubbing the back of his neck before he suddenly glanced up, looking around.

Dean leaned back behind the bookshelf he'd been hiding behind. He hadn't been seen; another glance at Adam showed him with his nose back in his books as it should have been.

This was how you saw how someone was really doing- the way they behaved when they were by themselves and didn't know they were being watched. It was a level of creepy, sure, but Dean could  _see_. He could see the eye bags, the hair that didn't look like it had been brushed, the clothes that were a little more rumpled than they should have been. It was little consolation that at the very least, Adam hadn't lost too much weight.

Dean stepped completely back behind the bookcase and closed his eyes, letting out a little sigh. He wondered if they'd done the right thing in leaving Adam alone. Maybe Sam had been right, but...

 _It was too dangerous, damnit._ Any other time- any other time, and sure, but now? On the cusp of the apocalypse?  _  
_

Adam... was family. But he was also complication, and didn't Dean hate himself for thinking of him in that way.

Sam, Castiel, Zachariah- hell, even God, apparently, thought Dean was the one to back to stop the apocalypse, but how could he do that if Adam, dorky, young Adam- really as defenceless as a damn toothless baby when it came right down to it- was in the line of fire?

He couldn't. He wouldn't.

The only thing for Adam in the life was misery and death. It was too late for him, too late for Sam- but Adam, Adam could be safe. Adam could be normal.

He swallowed his doubts, peering round the bookcase one last time.

Adam was gone.

Dean felt the hairs at the base of his neck give an unpleasant prickle and he bit back a groan.  _That sneaky sonofabitch.  
_

He turned around, fixing a smirk to his face. It was strained but no-one would know the difference.

"Adam."

"Dean." Adam didn't look at all pleased to see him

 

 

 

 

† † †

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeh, I know its a few hours late again, but I’m trying. Be warned, though, while I’ll try and keep the update rate to once a week, my life is getting a lot busier now, so the updates may slow down a bit after next week. Don’t worry- it’s not because I’m losing interest or anything- guys, I have this planned out for at least to the end of series 5 so far, never fear. Plus, the fact that I can write these chapters on my phone and just email them to myself makes things so much more easier- I can write on the go and not have to waste time rewriting everything once I’m done! For now, hopefully I’ll see you all this time next week!~


	7. React

 

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**Coalescence**

**Chapter 7: React**

† † †

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.

"What the  _hell_  are you doing here?" he narrowed his eyes at the way Dean was dressed- to the nines, it seemed, in a suit of charcoal grey. "And what are you wearing?"

Dean's smirk shrunk down a notch. "What- no  _'long time no see'_?  _'How you doing, Dean, did you stop the apocalypse'_? Kid- that  _hurts_."

Adam blinked, the question of the apocalypse throwing him for a moment. "...Did you stop the apocalypse?

Dean grinned. "Eh. I'm working on it."

For having appeared seemingly from thin air, he was being much too cheerful; it was off-putting. Adam sighed, leaning against the bookshelf and crossing his arms. "What are you doing here, Dean?"

"What- a guy can't check in on his little brother now?"

No. Adam had seen how the Winchesters worked. He'd seen how easy it was for Dean to leave him behind. They wouldn't leave the apocalypse for Adam.  _Dean_  wouldn't leave the apocalypse for  _Adam_. His irritation grew.

Adam glared. "By spying on me from behind a bookcase? Yeah, ok." His words were lilted with derision. "Why are you here? I didn't think I'd see you again. Not so soon."

He hadn't expected to see them again, ever.

"...Probably would have believed that line if it were coming from Sammy, right?"

After the wall of silence between them after he'd sent that text a while ago? Adam scowled. "Yeah, not really."

Dean was frowning now and he stepped forward. "Too bad. It's the truth- take it or leave it, kid."

Adam pulled himself straight and squared off with the oldest Winchester. He wasn't about to let himself be intimidated by  _Dean_.

Dean was lying. He knew it.

"You're full of crap, you know that?"

Dean laughed. "I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that."

"You heard it. You know it's true. You're not here to see me- so  _why are you here_?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Adam saw one of the other students head over to the librarian. The two were looking over in concern. Evidently the discussion between Adam and Dean had gotten more attention than they wanted. He bet Dean saw it too- the quick glance over his shoulder was enough to verify that.

"I don't have to listen to this," Dean growled. "We came to see how you were doing- we saw- we're going. Have a  _great_  life, Adam." He strode away towards the exit, but Adam wasn't going to let him go so easily.

The apocalypse, the apocalypse, what could bring Dean to the University of Wisconsin if not something to do with what he did for a living? He thought about it, and it took only a second for the connection to be made. He wondered how he hadn't seen it before.

It was starting to get darker outside the library. Dean made it three more steps before Adam caught up with him, grabbing his shoulder.

"What?"

"Jenny. Jenny Tanner."

"Who now?" Dean's face was a mask of irritation.

"That's why you're here. Something got Jenny Tanner, right?"

"Kid, I got no idea what you're on about or  _who_  this chick you're talking about is." There was not a single break in his facade, and Adam stared.

Dean was a very, very good liar. He knew that. He'd seen it before- at the hospital when Dean was backing up his story, but he'd never had the skill aimed at him. Rather, if he had, he had never picked up on it. It was almost scary. Adam's lips pressed into a hard line.

The oldest Winchester's nostrils flared a split second before he wrenched his shoulder from Adam's grasp and went back to walking away. Adam followed him.

"You  _do_  know- why the hell didn't you tell me? What- you didn't think I'd want to know if there was some- some  _monster_  this close to me- to my friends? I  _lived_  in E. Waters up until a few weeks ago- most of my friends are still there! The woods are  _right_  behind them, Dean, everyone goes out there to walk- what the  _hell_ -?"

"Ok, you know what?" Dean stopped, turning on his heel and squaring his shoulders. He was Adam's height, almost exactly, but the move made him seem larger and Adam felt a stab of forbidding. He quashed it down, matching Dean's anger. The two were almost chest to chest, but Adam knew he was the scrawnier of the two. It didn't matter. He would not be cowed.

Dean glared at him. "Cut the crap. Don't even act like you didn't know there was something here. Just stop."

"Wait- you think  _I_ knew?" Adam was incredulous.

"Mythology and folklore, Adam? All those notes you've been taking- you didn't think we'd find out? What, you wanted to have a go at this yourself, right? How could you be so stupid? You said you wanted to finish school, not- not get into this-"

"What are you even talking about? Who have you been talking to?" Adam snapped back in mix of both anger and confusion at Dean's sudden accusations. Who the hell did Dean think he was?

"It doesn't  _matter_ , Adam. What matters is you- you throwing your life into this! What, your mom's death wasn't enough for you?"

"You- don't you talk about my mom-" Adam hissed.

"You think she would have wanted this?"

"Shut up, Dean! You-  _shut. Up_." The urge to punch him was so strong his fingers twitched. Dean saw, smirked, but there was no lightness in it. He was just daring Adam to try, an excuse for him to take out his own frustration-  _frustration at what?-_ , but Adam wouldn't fall for it.

"Don't bring my mom into this- she has  _nothing_  to do with anything." He scrubbed a hand down his face and took a step back, urging himself to calm down. They weren't getting anywhere sniping at each other. "I don't care what you think you know, you're wrong, ok? I- I didn't know- that Jenny was something you'd be interested in. I would- I would have called, texted- or something! I'm not an idiot. I don't want to fight these things! I sure as hell wouldn't wanna do it on my own! And I don't know how the hell you know about my notes, but what the hell is wrong with knowing how to fight these things? You- you  _and_  Sam said that this stuff- these  _things_  are everywhere. Hell, you taught me about some of it yourself. If they're there, I should know how to stop them; they caught me off guard once, Dean- that's never going to happen again. I won't let it." Adam's chest was heaving at the end of the speech, his nerves completely on edge. His whole body felt wired.

"So you're what?" Dean asked, his lips curled up as he shook his head disbelievingly, "Studying in advance?"

"Something like that? I dunno..." Adam mumbled, suddenly feeling foolish. "If something comes at me again- I'm gonna know how to take it out. I'm not letting what happened... happen to me again."

He would never again be so helpless.

"And it ends there? At research?" Dean had him under careful scrutiny, had seemingly calmed himself down from whatever he'd worked himself up into.

"Well, yeah," Adam shrugged, "Unless, you know- something happens where you guys can't help me. Then you can bet I'll kick its ass. Or I'll die trying."

Because if anything came for him again, he wasn't going down unless it was swinging with every fibre of his being.

Dean's eyes narrowed further at the last remark. "...You really didn't know there was a case here?"

"No. No, I didn't." He frowned at the admission, his gaze drifting to his feet. It seemed all his researching- all that time spent in front of books and web pages and at lectures all amounted to nothing. He had failed to see the pattern and the monsters right under his nose. And Jennifer Tanner had died because of it.

The first thing he should have done on coming back to school was make sure the place was 'safe'. What good was proofing his room to the people around him? They'd been in danger the entire time and he hadn't known. He swallowed, and finally croaked out, "What is it? What's in the woods?"

Dean sighed, turning and walking away. Adam fell into step with him. He would get his answers. "We think it's an angry spirit. Some schmuck who died or got murdered however many years ago and couldn't stay dead- but the pattern is... weird. We need to check it out and make sure it's what we think it is."

"But you think it's an angry spirit? So... we need iron and salt and stuff, right?"

Dean shot him a dark look. "Yeah, we-  _Sam and me_ \- not you, need iron and salt and 'stuff'." He made a face at that, and Adam pursed his lips

"You gonna kill it?"

"Yeah, we'll waste it."

"And it's just... that easy for you to do that?" He slowed down a little, unable to help the tone of disbelief that seeped into his voice. Dean was talking about it like he wasn't even worried about the fact that he was going to be face to face with some supernatural freak that could turn him into a pin-cushion.  _Then again_ , his mind supplied detachedly,  _Dean grew up with all this- it probably didn't surprise him at all anymore_.

Dean shot him another look, and sped up the pace of his steps. "Yup." Cockiness, confidence, bravado, or just an assurance that he knew exactly what he was doing?

"The woods- they're right behind my old halls," Adam said slowly. How close his friends were to danger. They walked through the woods at least a few times a week. Jenny Tanner could easily have been Imogen or Dominic. Or Adam himself.

"Yeah, so?"

"...I want to come with you when you kill it." The words came quickly, rushed in an exhale of breath, and Adam almost cringed, wanting to take them back.

Dean stopped short. Adam almost ploughed right into the back of him.

"After everything you just told me, I'm gonna pretend I heard you wrong," Dean finally growled. It was not like the tone of just a few moments ago, wild in its baseless accusations. It was focussed, rough, and Adam felt a shiver of wariness run down his spine.

"I  _need_  to know how to do this," said Adam steadily. "That ghost- it could have gone after  _anyone_. I didn't know that this was 'supernatural', but I do now. And I'm here. You- you're both gonna be there, right? I'll-"

Dean grabbed him by the arm and practically tossed him into the door of the building they'd just arrived at. The door shuddered under his weight, but stayed firm.

"What you're going to _do_ ," Dean cut in icily from a few feet away, "is go and forget I even told you that this was a case. We're dealing with it."

Indeed, finally taking note of where Dean had led him, he noticed that the oldest Winchester had practically escorted him back to Barnard Hall. The question of how he even knew Adam was housed there briefly flashed across his mind but was forgotten under the weight of Dean's glare. His tone brokered no room for argument, but Adam stared up at him defiantly. "You can't stop me from coming with you."

"Oh-ho, is that right?" Dean looked supremely amused, but there was a dark edge to it, and Adam leaned back into the door. "You're not going. Wanna know why? Because  _I'm not letting you_. Researching- that is  _it_  for you. That's where it ends, you understand me? I am not having more people  _die_  because we were busy babysitting you. Now, way I see it, you got two choices, Adam. Choice number one," he held a finger up- "you go back to your room by yourself. Choice two," he held up a second finger- "I drag you there myself and I tie you down until we're done here." The amusement had dropped off of his face, and he advanced towards his youngest brother. "Well? I hope for your sake that you picked the smarter choice, kid."

Adam was trapped.

And judging by the expression on Dean's face, he wasn't joking about dragging Adam back to his room like some stupid kid, either. He knew for a fact that Dean had the strength to do it. He glowered at Dean, recognising his defeat, and abruptly turned on his heel and stormed back to his room.

 

† † †

The blood was thundering in his ears and he could feel his face burning as he rounded the last corridor and reached for the door to his room. He was breathing hard, but it had nothing to do with the climb of the stairs.

 _Dean Winchester had no right_. He had strolled back into his life, brought with him terrible news, then refused to let Adam even help right the wrong that had been committed.

Jennifer Tanner. He had never met the girl, but she had died, like his mother only a month before, because Adam had done nothing. Only it was worse this time; he had knowledge now, and he was still doing nothing. God, what if it had been Imogen in the woods? Or Dominic, or Max?

The door to his room popped open and Adam shut it behind him, forgoing the bed to pace the length of his living space.

Dean had no right.

Yet here Adam was, sitting in his room like some errant child when he could be out helping. Who knew how many innocent, clueless people were in the woods in danger right this second?

So caught up in his thinking, he forgot that the drawers under the wardrobe were still half open, and cursed as his foot collided with them. A sharp spike of pain ran up his leg and he swore, reaching down to rub the now throbbing area.

That was when he caught sight of it. Nestled hidden under some of his clothes, his collision with the drawer had caused the bottom of it to peek out.

The gun. The gun with  _iron_  bullets. Definitely enough to handle a ghost.

Adam reached for it and straightened up, the pain in his leg forgotten. He glanced from the gun to the door, and back again. Less than a second later his decision was made and he tucked the gun into the back of his trousers, under his shirt. Pulling a jacket over the top of his shirt, he strode out of the door.

 

† † †

Over the course of the days they spent coaching him, Dean had assured him (more than once) that he was the closest thing it got to a professional in the hunting business. For someone so confident in his own skills, Dean sure was blind to his surroundings.

He had been nowhere to be seen when Adam first exited Barnard Hall, though he had half expected Dean to still be there, guarding the place or something, waiting to catch him out. That hadn't been the case, though, and Adam had jogged back the way that he'd come with Dean. It was back near the science block that he finally caught sight of him, shoulders slouched as he strode forward, phone pressed to his ear.

Adam had hung back, sidestepping into the cover of a small alcove, not wanting to be spotted. From there, he'd followed Dean as he made a sharp right, heading straight for the Elizabeth Waters Halls. Aside from a near miss when Dean had unexpectedly turned around- probably to make sure he wasn't being followed- the path had been clear, and Adam ran into the halls, making his way through the building to the back door, through which he saw Dean make his way past the halls and towards the woods. He disappeared into the foliage, and Adam bit his lip as he considered his options.

It would be harder to follow Dean in the woods, and it would certainly be harder to follow him without being seen. Still, he had to try. He fingered the handle on the door, was just about to push it open when he saw the taller, broader shape of Sam jogging forward in his peripheral vision. His fingers relaxed their hold on the handle as he watched Sam disappear into the trees.

A full five minutes passed before Adam steeled his nerves and pushed the door open, following the route his half-brothers had taken into the woods.

 

† † †

"What the hell took you so long?" Dean snapped as Sam finally made an appearance.

Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother's bluster. "Well, you did park the car pretty far, man. Here." Under the cover of the shallow end of the woods, he handed Dean a shotgun before zipping up the duffel bag at his feet once again and slinging it on to his back.

They were pretty sure that it  _was_  a ghost they were dealing with, but just in case... It never hurt to be prepared.

"Thanks," Dean grumbled, making sure the safety on the gun was on before he slid it under the flap of his suit jacket. It wasn't hidden as completely as it would have been under his leathers, but it would do. No need to make it clear to anyone who stumbled upon them that it was obvious they were armed. "Let's hurry it up here- I wanna be as far away from this place as quick as possible."

"Yeah, sure," Sam said, wondering what had got his brother in such a foul mood. "Pretty much all of the murders happened on or close to the longest trail over there. Guess that's the logical place to start." He pointed at the area of trees that were cordoned off with police tape.

"Gotcha," said Dean. He waved Sam in front of him. "Ladies first."

Sam rolled his eyes.

 

† † †

He was an idiot. He'd never have thought of himself as that before, but here he was, alone in woods that he knew to be haunted. If he was being honest with himself, he was terrified.

It was darker in the woods, surprisingly darker than it had been out of them, the tall trees restricting light and leaving visibility low. As soon as he'd passed through into the trees he'd been looking for Sam and Dean, but there was no sign of them to be seen. Instead, he followed the lines of police tape, keeping an ear out for anyone (or anything) that didn't fit.

The gun was a weight on his waist that he was ever conscious of, and the further he got into the woods, the more every noise, every stir of branches in the light breeze seemed to jump out at him.

His heart was thudding in his chest. He could practically hear the rhythmic thumping of the rush of blood in his ears, feel it pumping faster than usual in his legs as if they were preparing him to run.

_Crack._

He spun to face the noise, eyes narrowed in concentration, but there was nothing there. Just another branch creaking in the wind.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled.

God, it was getting chilly. It was meant to be  _April_.

He pulled the gun from his waistband and carefully zipped his jacket up.

Still no sign of Sam and Dean.

 _That... Probably was a good thing,_  his mind supplied. After all, Dean would probably kill him faster than a ghost would, if he found him here. Adam had his gun; he had his knowledge. It would not be like the time with the ghouls. He would be fine.

A sudden shrill ringing filled the woods, and he jumped, gasping at the noise. The gun loosened in his grip as he fumbled for the phone in his pocket, rushing to turn it off before it attracted undue attention. He wasn't sure if it was the ghost or his half-brothers he was worried about right then, but he dashed further from the tape-laden trail into a thicket, out of view.  
 _  
Stupid, stupid, stupid-_

He cancelled the ringer, letting out a slow sigh of relief when silence fell all around him once again.

Another moment of silence drew to end, and with no-one rushing towards the noise, Adam crept back towards the trail.

-And that was when he slipped onto his backside. A jolt of pain ran up his tailbone.

"Urgh- sonofa-!"

He grunted, fingers reaching for whatever it was that tripped him. His brow creased in disgust as his fingers came back sticky.

"What the  _hell_ -?"

It was a puddle; cold black liquid that looked more like wet tar than anything else. He grimaced, feeling whatever it was he'd just slipped in dampen the leg of his jeans.

Gross.

He let out a sigh of annoyance...

...And froze as the breath puffed out of his mouth, crystallising into an icy cloud.

Sam... Sam had said something about extreme temperature drop in relation to ghost activity.

His heart caught in his throat and he stumbled up onto his feet.

_Shit._

 

† † †

It had been boring. Not a single sign of anything in the woods that shouldn't have been there; there were only the sounds of the twigs crunching under their feet. Sam hadn't tried making conversation- Dean was unusually irritated and withdrawn, and any attempt Sam had made was shut down almost immediately. Particularly when he brought up Adam.

That didn't stop him prodding.

"What, you really don't think we should swing by and see him at all?"

"No."

"But we're  _here_."

"And?"

Sam bit back a groan of frustration. "I'm gonna go see him when we're done here."

" _Are you._ " It wasn't even a question.

"Yeah. Yeah I am. He's my brother, Dean. And he's yours, too."

"Thanks for making the matter clear, Sam, for a second there you had me confused." The words were delivered with saccharine sweetness, and Sam frowned.

"I really don't see what your problem is with this."

Dean snorted indelicately. "No, you probably wouldn't."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" And what was Dean even implying?

"Nothin', Sam, forget it." Dean followed the torchlight away and back again, before finally adding, "I can't make you stay away from him, Sam- just don't be surprised if he's not happy to see you. Just sayin'."

Dean fell quiet and Sam grimaced, beginning to wish the ghost- or whatever it was- would hurry to show itself. Sadly, from the looks of everything so far, all the signs were there that it would be a long night, and he silently resigned himself to the fact.

And then the EMF scanner blipped, beginning to whine as the lights along the top lit up.

"Dean."

A  _gunshot_  echoed through the woods.

Sam shot a wide-eyed look at his brother a split second before they both took off, sprinting in the direction of the noise.

Someone was in the woods.

Dean pulled the shotgun from the inside of his jacket, and Sam followed suit.

They heard a shout; a grunt- the sound of a body being thrown into a tree and they finally caught sight of it.

Dean had been right- it was a ghost. A tall man with blood drenched across his stomach and trailing from his mouth. He was advancing towards the body on the ground- he had a knife.

"Sam-"

"I got it."

"Hey!" Dean roared. "Eat some of this, you-" the rest of his words were drowned out by gunfire and Sam rushed forward to the body on the floor, hand reaching for the guy's shoulder as he tried to pull him up.

"Hey- hey man, you're all right. Still with us?"

"It came back," the guy grunted and Sam froze. He knew that voice.  
" _A-Adam_?"

The air grew even more frigid and Adam dropped back to the floor, groping for- his gun? Smart kid. Sam kicked the weapon to him, watched as he picked it up, then tried to hoist him back up. Adam helped, leaning into Sam and practically using him as a ladder to get to his feet.

"Sam, it's-"

"Sam!" Dean yelled.

"I got it-!" Sam levelled the gun at the ghost that had reappeared much too close and shot it in the chest. It dissipated once again, spectral knife and all, and Dean rushed over. His eyes widened in disbelief when he caught sight of Adam.

"Oh, you've  _gotta_  be kidding me-"

The ghost, persistent bastard that it was, flickered back into view and Dean shot it in the face with renewed vigour.

"Now is not the time," Sam grumbled, hefting Adam higher. "Here, help me out. We gotta get him outta here."

Dean grabbed Adam's other arm none too gently and the three of them pelted for the tree-line as fast as they could.

 

† † †

"That's quite a cut you got there," Sam said, pressing an old shirt to Adam's face.

Adam winced at the motion, the sting running from the cut above his eyebrow running to his cheek and jaw. He looked, once again, like he'd been in a brawl with Rambo. Just his luck, really. "Yeah."

His heart was still beating a mile a minute.

God.  _Ghosts._

They were back in Adam's room, the space seeming to have shrunk to uncomfortable levels with the weight of three grown men within it. Sam's duffel and Adam's gun lay messily atop the bed. Dean had taken the chair by the desk and had yet to utter a word since they'd left the woods. Hell, he hadn't even looked at Adam since making it back to the room.

Adam was just waiting for him to explode.

"How'd you pick up that there was a hunt round here, anyway?" Sam prodded, pulling the shirt away and wetting a ball of cotton with antisceptic from his bag. Adam hissed as the liquid seeped into his skin. Sam shot him an apologetic smile.

Sam's actions with it all reeked of normality, but Adam was confused. He looked over at Dean, who was still busy trying to burn holes in the wall with his gaze. Hadn't Dean told Sam about their encounter just a few hours earlier?

Finally done with tending to the head wound, Sam backed off, taking a seat on the far side of the bed. "Can't say I'm surprised you were there, but Adam- that could have gone worse. You should have called us, man. We would have helped you. Still- it's good to see you."

They hadn't even told him they were in Wisconsin. And where did Sam get off acting caring when he hadn't even bothered to text back? Days- weeks of complete radio silence. At least Adam had tried.

He stayed quiet and Sam cleared his throat, looking away.

A thought occurred to Adam.

"You said salt or iron were good for ghosts. It- it didn't die." The shot- the only shot he'd made, damnit, had gone right through the ghost- and it had disappeared- but then it had _come back_. That's when things had gone south. It had thrown him into a fucking tree. His ribs twinged unpleasantly at the reminder.

Dean scoffed, and Sam threw a severe look his way. "Yeah- that- we were teaching you how to get away from a ghost, Adam. Not how to kill one," he explained quietly.

Oh.

Adam stared.

The nausea set in a second later and he swallowed down the panic that bloomed in his chest.

If there was any doubt about it, Sam's words had settled it. He was just as clueless as he'd always been.

"I didn't know," he finally said, feeling wretched at the thought of how badly he'd messed up, "that there was a ghost."

Sam looked confused. "Then what was with the gun? Why were you in the woods?"

Adam looked over at the Winchester seated at the desk. "Dean- Dean said it was a hunt. He thought I knew. I didn't. I didn't know."

"I told you to stay out of it," Dean said loudly.

Adam scoffed. Dean had done more than just  _tell_  him anything.

But Sam wasn't looking at him anymore.

"Dean- Dean told you that?" It was said neutrally, but Adam could see Sam weighing his words carefully. He really  _hadn't_  known.

Adam nodded.

"Right." Sam's lips thinned and he stood. "Of course he did."

"Oh, it doesn't even matter," Dean groused, also getting to his feet. "You-" he said, jabbing a finger in Adam's direction, "you almost got yourself killed. Really-  _nice job on that_. You get it now? You are  _done_  with this, you got that?"

And just like that, Adam was standing too, anger swallowing up the last vestiges of his anxiety. "That thing could have killed any number of my friends. I'll be done with it when that thing is  _dead_ ," he snapped. "I told you you can't stop me."

So iron and salt didn't kill a ghost. He bet something else would.

He stepped back as Dean pressed forward, but Sam got between them, hand out and sour look on his face.

"You know what, Dean? Just back off."

Dean frowned, a flitter of hurt passing through his eyes before it was replaced by indifference, and the set of his shoulders relaxed.

"You're done with this," Dean repeated. "Go back to your  _girlfriend_  and  _Facebook_  and whatever the hell else it is you do, kid. You didn't come here to hunt- you came here to learn. Really, I don't know why it's so hard to get- you don't  _want_  to get involved with this."

Adam stared him down, and Sam sighed, breaking the tension that was falling over the room.

"We're going. Come on." He nodded towards the door, judging it safe enough to leave the space between Adam and Dean unoccupied as he trudged out.

"Adam- I'll call you tomorrow. We'll get lunch or something- whatever you like. You should... Probably get some rest now. But- man, stay out of the woods until we tell you it's safe, all right?"

Adam stared at him. "...Fine."

"All right then." He nodded, then left the room.

Dean picked up the duffel on the bed and left right after him.

 

† † †

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear it's too hot to function these days. Apologies to those I got back to saying that the chapter would be out 'soon'. I did mean on that day, but fasting 18 hour days coupled with wisdom tooth problems has really taken it out of me. On the plus side, this chapter amounted to a whopping 16k and 52 page document. So I had to split it into three. That means next week and the week after, you're guaranteed a chapter!
> 
> Thanks so much for all the feedback/comments/kudos/bookmarks/favourites/follo ws/PM's! I don't think you guys realise quite how happy it makes me to hear from you : D Now I need to get ready for work.


	8. The Dig

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: 'Supernatural' is the property of Warner Brothers, the CW, and other associated parties. I claim no ownership of the franchise, characters or settings, nor am I affiliated with the above parties in any way. The following is a fan-work, written for my amusement, and not for material or monetary gain. Please support the official releases. (I don't own this).
> 
> THIS is the chapter I was so looking forward to writing, haha.

 

.

.

.

**Coalescence**

**Chapter 8: The Dig**

† † †

.

.

.

Sam slammed the door to the Impala extra hard.

"Hey- I get it, you're pissed. Don't take it out on the car, Sam."

Sam said nothing, quietly stewing in his seat.

"Sam?"

Nothing.  
 _  
"Sammy."_

Still nothing.

"What- what do you want me to say? I'm sorry, all right?"

"Dean- just-  _don't_ , ok?"

Dean ignored him. "I wasn't gonna talk to him- kid caught me watching. What did you want me to do?"

"Tell the truth about it, for starters, Dean," Sam snapped. "How about telling me so I could talk to him? All this noise you've been making about staying away and  _you're_  the one who wants to dig around his things. You're the one who finds reasons to follow him around. You're the one talking to him. He was out there because of you, man. He could have got himself killed."

"Hey, I told him to stay out of this- you think I wanted him there?"

"Dean- he doesn't even  _like_  you- why the hell would he listen to anything you say?"

"Hey," Dean said, hurt, "he's not so hot on you, either."

"At least I'm willing to try," Sam sniped back. "I get that you're trying to do what dad thought was best, I do- what we do isn't easy, but dad was wrong on this. He  _is_  one of us. Sure as hell wouldn't have been out there with a gun, otherwise, Dean."

"What we do is that- great- that you wanna drag him into it, huh? We haven't lost enough?"

"Hey- I am  _not_  the one trying to keep him defenceless."

Dean swerved to a rough stop on the side of the road. "That is  _not_  what I'm trying to do and you know it," he gritted out.

"Yeah, maybe not, but it  _is_  what you're doing."

"Yeah- yeah, it's that simple, isn't it, Sam?" Dean said loudly.

Sam scowled.

"Sammy- ganking any mother that's trying to get  _you_  is a full time job. You want him in- I get it, but you think that gets any easier when there are two of you? He doesn't  _know_  anything, Sam. He'll be a damn easy target for anyone and anything that's after us- especially now. You think that'll be good for him?  _Think_ , man."

"Yeah- but you're not the only one who'll be looking out for him, Dean. He's our brother- you think I'd let anything lay a finger on him?"

And wasn't that a terrifying thought.

Dean knew the lengths he'd go to for Sam. He'd gone to hell for him; it didn't get more self-sacrificing than that. It was what you did for family. But Sam was hell bent on having someone else in the line of fire- someone else to sacrifice himself for when things went wrong. And they would go wrong- they always did, and when one of your party was an untrained kid who didn't even know how to gank a ghost? Sam would never have to sacrifice himself to save Dean- Dean would never let that happen. With Adam added to the mix, though; with Adam out on the field fighting hell's fugliest- the chance of a happy ending went from slim to none.

"Sam, I'm not saying this again. We're not dragging him into this." God, Dean was tired. He was done repeating himself. He felt like a broken record.

"So if he wants in- you're just gonna leave him, huh? Drive off, right? What d'you think he'll do?"

If Adam wanted in- if he really wanted in and they left him, he'd probably end up stranded in another forest somewhere and dead not soon after. He didn't know what he was doing, that much was clear.

His death would be on Dean's head either way.

The thought made him want to punch something.

"Shut up, Sam," he finally sighed instead.

 

† † †

_ARTICLE: GHOSTS_

_'Salt and iron slow ghosts down- they don't_ _kill them. Upon contact with an iron bullet, a ghost will dissipate for a_ _short time_ _before it reforms ready to attack again.'_

Adam finished writing in the leather notebook, studying the words for a minute before adding another line:  
 _  
'Ghosts can attack you telekinetically.'_

He doubted his bruised ribs would let him forget that anytime soon.

He sighed, leaning back in the chair.

He hadn't slept a wink and he had a lecture to go to. But he wouldn't be going- not today.

A sharp knock on the door brought him out of his reverie, and he shut the notebook, going to open the door.

Imogen stormed in. Adam raised a brow.

"Uh- hello to you, too-?"

"Where were you?" She asked. She spun to face him. "Adam, you said you'd meet us last night for the fai- oh God, what happened to you?" She crossed to him, reaching for his face, and he leaned back.

He'd been thrown face first into a tree by an angry ghost. Somehow he didn't think that she'd appreciate the honesty.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it," he muttered.

"That- that's not nothing," she cried. "You look like you've been hit by a train! God, Adam, where were you? Why- why don't you talk to me? To anyone?"

She wouldn't understand. He told her as much, inwardly cringing at how pathetic that sounded.

"So talk to someone who  _does_ understand!"

That list only held two names that he knew of so far.

"I don't want to talk to  _them_ , all right? Now can you just drop it?" He turned away.

"You know what, Adam? I don't think I will. I'm worried about you- we're all worried about you, and- is that- is that a  _gun_?"

Adam whirled round, but it was too late. He hadn't moved it from where he'd tossed it the night before, and she picked it up off of his bed, looking at it with a horrified expression.

"Adam- Adam, why do you have a gun?"

She sounded scared, and Adam stared at her. It did nothing to calm her- if anything, her fear climbed to palpable levels, settling over the room like a blanket of needles and she backed away.

"What, you're not going to say anything?"

"Give it back, Imogen." It was the only weapon he  _had._

"No. I'm not- I'm not giving you this, Adam."

"Look- I need it-"

"What the  _hell_  do you need a gun for?" She screeched. "Damnit, Adam, why- you're scaring us, ok? I'm not- I'm not giving this back to you."

"It's dangerous- just give-"

"-It's a fucking gun, of course it's dangerous!"

"I wasn't talking- I wasn't talking about the gun," he snapped back. There was still danger out there, danger that she was ignorant to. "Give- give me it."

He stepped forward slowly, arm outstretched, and Imogen sidestepped him, putting the desk chair between them. The gun was clenched tightly in her hands, but she wasn't pointing it at him. That was something. "Don't come any closer, Adam, I mean it."

And now she was scared of him. Terrified. He bit back the regret. He'd never wanted this. She should never have been scared of him. He backed off, retreating to sit on the bed, his hands in his lap. "Look, I'm not- I'm not gonna hurt you, ok?"

She was quiet for a moment, her features stark on her pale face. "Why do you have a gun, Adam? Just- talk to me, please.  _Please._ "

What was he meant to say? The lie had coated nearly every aspect of his life and he had been the one to spread it. "It's a long story, ok?" He said, trying to stall.

She bit her lip and Adam sighed. He wasn't getting out of it this time. "Look- my mom died, all right? And it was- it was a monster that killed her."

There. He'd told the truth, and some of the anxiety knotted around his chest loosened.

"Yeah. Yeah, Adam, only a monster could do something like that. But-"

She didn't get it. "No- no you don't- understand. It wasn't a monster- it was a  _monster_. A real one. A ghoul."

Imogen didn't say anything, and Adam's eyes fixed onto his hands. They were starting to shake.

"It got my mom," he said, "waited 'til it got me to cut her open. Started eat- started eating her insides," he managed to stutter out, feeling his jaw try to lock. He breathed deeply, whetting his dry lips. "She was- she was screaming and it turned into her- ghouls-  _that's what they do_. I don't know. It- it turned into her and then-"

His scars were twinging and he felt his eyes burn.

"I couldn't do anything to stop it. And I know these things exist now and I still didn't see it coming."

"Adam- what- what are you talking about?" Imogen breathed.

"Tanner. Jenny Tanner. There's something in the woods- a ghost. It- it did this to me." He motioned to his banged up face with a humourless smile. "There's a book behind you- just- look inside. That's everything I know about this stuff, ok? And I don't know anything. You need to give me the gun back. I need it."

Imogen looked stricken, and she groped behind her for the book. She spent a few seconds flicking through the pages- not nearly enough to really take anything in, before she put it back. She cleared her throat, but her voice sounded even thicker for it.

"Adam- I know- I know what you went through was hard, but- you- this sounds... crazy."

Yeah. Yeah, it did.

"You- you have to know none of this is real. Adam, please?" Her bottom lip was wobbling, tears filling her eyes as she pleaded with him.

He closed his eyes. "Just give me back the gun, 'Gen, ok?"

"No. I don't- I don't- I can't trust you with this, you have to see that, right? You need to talk to someone, Adam. Please!"

"I'm  _not_  crazy." He should have been. After what he'd seen, he should have been as nutty as a fruitcake, but he wasn't.

"No. No you're not," Imogen said quietly, "but you need help."

He was so sick of this. "Are you going to give me the gun?"

"No."

"Then just go, all right?" he said tiredly.

She swallowed, going for the door. "Are- are you gonna be ok?"

His lips twitched at that. "Yeah." He'd be fine once he was done with the ghost.

"We'll talk, ok? Later." She opened the door.

"'Gen?" She turned to face him. "Sorry I missed the fair."

A tear rolled down her cheek and the door clicked shut.

 

† † †

"Sam?"

"Uh- yeah, Adam? What is it?"

"Can we... talk?"

Sam blinked, surprised at that. He'd been expecting to have to drag Adam out so they could talk, not have Adam call him first. He gave his phone an odd look before pressing it back to his ear.

"Sam? You still there?"

"Yeah, yeah- I'm here. Sorry." He glanced over at Dean, who was still sleeping. "I was gonna call you later. You, uh- wanna meet someplace?"

"Memorial Library? You know where that is?"

"Yeah- now?"

"Yeah."

"...You don't have a lecture?" Sam was pretty sure that Adam  _did_  have a lecture at eleven thanks to the copy of his timetable he'd downloaded.

"I can miss one lecture, Sam," Adam replied flatly.

"All right then. If you're sure." Sam shut the laptop. Dean was still sleeping. "I just need to grab some things? I'll meet you in thirty."

 

† † †

Adam was sitting at a table in front of his own laptop when Sam found him, red leather notebook laid out open next to him. A pen lay beside it.

"Adam."

"Sam."

"You wanted to talk?"

"Yeah- look, I want in," said Adam, staring Sam straight in the face. There was no hesitation at all- he was completely resolute.

"You want in?" Sam asked, already knowing what Adam was alluding to, but wanting to make sure.

"On this... case, I mean. I need to make sure that this is- finished- you know? It's too close."

Straight to business, then.  
 _  
He knew it._

...Though maybe he was a little disappointed that Adam didn't want to talk about other things, too. He showed as much signs as he had the days that they'd spent together that he wasn't really interested in either Sam or Dean as  _people_. Perhaps that would come later. Right now, Adam wanted to talk about hunting; Sam could do that.

Sam set his own laptop down on the table, crossing his fingers atop it and stared at his younger brother.

"Ok."

Adam looked taken aback. He'd clearly been prepared for another argument. "...What- just like that?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah. Well- not 'just like that'- if you're doing this then I'm gonna be with you every step of the way here, and you're gonna have to do everything I say when it comes to the bits that matter, all right? What you were doing in the woods- that's not gonna fly here, Adam. That was stupid."

Adam ducked his head at that. Good. He'd drawn the same conclusion from that escapade as Sam had. "All right."

"Good," said Sam, letting the matter drop. There was no point in riding Adam on it- what was done was done. He knew it was wrong- Sam didn't think he'd pull something like that again, so it was time to move on. Sam pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and slid it across the table.

Adam picked it up, unfolding it. "What is this?"

"All the names we have so far- deaths in the woods from multiple stab wounds."

"Like Jenny."

"Like Jenny," Sam repeated, nodding.

"What am I meant to do with this?"

"Well," said Sam, "it's just a start. You can help me trace it back as far as it goes- look for the same M.O. Odds are that when we get to the first one- well, we find our man. Dean figured it to about 1931- he figured out some weird pattern to it, too- the killings only happen every six, eleven, eleven years, but we need to check- and double check. Make sure we get the right guy. Make sure that pattern doesn't complicate things even more."

"Why- is the pattern weird?"

"Well, ghosts- and there's a few types of them, I told you- but this kind, the vengeful spirit kind- anniversary dates are usually important in how they appear. You get spirits who only show up at certain times of the year, the month, the day, the time. But this... isn't like that. We haven't seen anything like it before."

Adam nodded once, face considering. "And that's... bad?"

"We don't know that yet. That's what we're trying to find out."

"And then?"

"Then- we kill it."

Adam let out a nervous breath. "Ok."

 

† † †

When the phone vibrated in his pocket, Sam excused himself from Adam's company, meandering between a few bookshelves a little way away. It was Dean's name on the caller ID. He already had Adam on board, had promised him a place in this hunt; now all that was left was to play it cool. He raised the phone to his ear.

"Dean?"

"Yeah. Where are you?" It was early evening- Sam was surprised Dean hadn't called before then. Especially since Sam had taken the car. Maybe Dean thought Sam was still angry.

...Which he was. Dean's hypocrisy on the issue of Adam grated on him more than he'd care to admit.

"Library," he said. "I was just about to call you, actually."

"Yeah? You found something?"

"Yeah. I think we got everything we need."

"All right, hit me."

"You were right, man. All the deaths? They all fall between the twelfth and nineteenth of April. But get this: the years they fall on? They all follow the same calendar. Six years, eleven, eleven? That's how often the calendar repeats itself."

Adam had found that particular bit of information himself. Dean didn't need to know Adam was even working with him.

"Huh. So it is some freaky anniversary thing," Dean commented.

"Near as I can tell, yeah," Sam said, clutching the phone closer to his ear. "Fits with the other info I dug up, all the way back to who I think is our guy. Richard Monroe, cause of death- multiple stab wounds, April twelfth,  _1925_. Police report said he tried to mug a couple of students and got skewered in the process. It was a week before his body was discovered. Same week the murders happen every time. Pretty sure this is our guy. Found where he's buried, too. We can be done with this today."

"All right. Good job, Sammy. You got the car- swing round and pick me up- I'm at the station. I was talking with the boyfriend- he didn't know anything more than what we figured, so that was a bust."

"Uh- yeah. Dean, about that-"

"What?"

"Cemetery is over an hour away," Sam said, "it's getting dark already. its Friday- Monroe is still gonna be active."

"So we'll be fast about it."

"I think you should head back over to the woods. Make sure nobody else gets hurt. I can take care of the body."

"What- by yourself?"

No, not by himself. But Sam had no intention of letting Dean in on that fact.

"Dean, it's not hard. I could do it in my sleep. It's not like I haven't done it alone before."

"I dunno, Sammy-"

"Look, the more time we waste talking, the darker it's getting, Dean," Sam said, a touch of impatience seeping into his voice. And he felt bad- deceiving Dean like this, but Dean would not listen to reason when it came to Adam, so it was the only option Sam was left with.

"All right, all right, fine," Dean replied, "I'll get back to the campus. Watch yourself, all right? See you in a few."

Sam ended the call and headed back to the table, where Adam was scribbling in his notebook.

"What's that?" He asked, knowing full well what it was. He'd seen it in Adam's room already, knew exactly that what he was seeing was the start of a hunter's journal, even if it was rife with mistakes.

Adam started, shutting the book with a small  _snap_. He hadn't heard Sam come back. "It's a notebook," he said, deadpan, and Sam's lips twitched.

"I can see that," he said, "what are you writing?"

He saw the hesitation on Adam's face; saw him weighing up the decision to lie or to tell the truth, to trust Sam or not to trust him. Adam really was young, if not a little rumpled around the edges, and his expressions were much too open and honest to be dealing with the Winchesters, who could spot weaknesses a mile off. Though Adam showed hints of a will that could be tempered into steel with the right guidance- it took a lot of guts to cross Dean, after all, (Sam could attest to that personally)- as of yet, all Adam really was was a wounded child with a growing chip on his shoulder.

Just like Sam had been, once upon a time.

Sam felt a stab of regret at the thought.

He wondered if he was going about things the wrong way. The bond between brothers... he had lied to Dean, just then; had been lying to Dean for a while now, about Ruby, and now he was lying to Adam. He was a Winchester- lying was what he did, but should it not have been a different rule for family? Then again, Dean had no trouble lying to Sam, either, and that still hurt, even if it was for 'Sam's own good' so he supposed it was what it was. He wondered what Adam would do if he realised just how much his brothers had infringed on his privacy, even if it was for his own good. Maybe he'd been right not to trust them completely after all.

"You know what?" he said, giving a small smile, "never mind."

"No," Adam said, seeming to have made his own decision on the issue. He didn't look entirely comfortable with the choice he'd made, but he slid the book across the table in Sam's direction anyway. "It's mostly stuff you taught me, anyway. I figured it would be better to write it down so I don't forget or anything. And you- you're helping me now, so why the hell not?"

Oh, that was a low blow, even if Adam didn't know it. Sam picked up the book, if a little gingerly, and gently paged through it. He'd seen it all before, back in Adam's room. For a starter hunter's notebook, it wasn't that bad at all. He handed it back to Adam.

"Decapitation or sticking them with dead man's blood for vampires," he said finally. "Writing it all down- it was a good idea."

Adam accepted advice and the compliment, tucking the book away. "We got what we needed to, right? So what now?"

"Well I just spoke to Dean," Sam said lightly, watching as Adam tensed up. "Don't worry about it- he's going to stay by the woods; make sure no-one else gets hurt. And now we're sure who we're dealing with..." Sam held up the keys to the Impala, "I'm gonna teach you how to deal with ghosts properly."

 

† † †

"That's..." He swallowed. "Wow."

Adam gazed at the small armoury in trunk of the Impala with wide eyes. Shit, there was easily enough there to arm a small army. Under a false bottom, no less.

Sam and Dean, they were really serious.

"Yep," said Sam proudly, pulling out some shovels. He passed them to Adam, who handled them clumsily until they were leaning comfortably on his shoulder. Sam pulled out a small bottle of  _something_ , as well as a bag of salt and a few guns. He passed one of the guns over to Adam.

"It's a shotgun," Sam commented, slamming the trunk shut and locking the car up. He led Adam over to the graveyard, eerie in its silence. It was dark, the only light around them shining down from the moon above. The gravestones seemed to be absorbing the light all on their own, however, long shadows thrown over the ground and hanging from the trees.

It looked much like the place Adam had come out to when Dean had freed him from the coffin.

He stopped.

Sam was still walking. Sam was still  _talking_. "Just be sure to put more of your shoulder into it if you need to fire, all right? The kickback is stronger but it's not... that different. Ideally I'd practice it with you with it first, but..."

Adam felt sick.

"Isn't the ghost still in the woods?" he forced out, trying to keep his voice nonchalant.

God, what was wrong with him? He'd done this before- charged headfirst into danger, and he'd been alone that time.

Then again, he'd been running off of anger at the time. Anger at Dean, anger at himself, anger at the supernatural for daring to appear so close to him again. This time he was under no such influence.

His heart suddenly felt like it was trying to ram its way up his throat.

"Yeah, but sometimes-" Sam turned, arching a brow when he realised Adam had been left behind. "Hey- you ok?" His voice was a tad too concerned for Adam, who struggled to swallow down the fear that was threatening to overrun him.

"Yeah," he muttered, just loud enough for Sam to hear him, "peachy." He didn't move an inch.

Sam looked worried, jogging back over to him. "Adam, it'll be ok. I'm not gonna let anything lay a finger on you, I promise." Sam seemed to deliberate with himself for a moment, before adding, "If you don't wanna do this, I can get you outta here and come back- do this myself. It- it's ok. You don't have to be here if you don't want to be."

Sam meant to be consoling, to be as comforting and understanding as he could be in such a situation, but all it did was gnaw on Adam's nerves.

He'd faced the thing once and survived, he could do it again.

For Jenny, who had died because he hadn't used the knowledge he possessed. For himself, because goddamnit was he sick of being scared. Fear was becoming a second skin that was clinging tighter to him every day, and he was tired of it.

"The longer you leave it, the more chance it has of getting someone else," he said dully.

"You can wait in the car?"

Like a coward.

No. He had wanted in on this, he wouldn't back out now.

"I'm fine," he repeated a little more firmly. "What were you saying?" He pushed past Sam into the cemetery. "What are we looking for?"

"Richard Monroe's grave."

A sinking feeling filled Adam's stomach. The shovels in his hands suddenly felt much too heavy.

"We're not... We're not digging him up, are we?" he asked weakly.

Sam threw him a sheepish smile. "'Fraid so. It's the more 'glamorous' side of the job, I guess. Salt and burn the body or whatever objects the spirit has attached itself to- only way to get rid of the ghost."

"...It dies?"

"Moves on," said Sam airily. "Forcibly."

"So we're digging up someone's grave," said Adam faintly. "That's... that's something."

Sam paused at a grave, crouching down and shining a small flashlight on the grave marker they'd stopped at. They'd found their guy. "Still ok with this?"

"...Yeah- yeah,  _wonderful_. There's nothing wrong with this picture, nothing at  _all_."

Still, Adam made no move to leave, and Sam grinned at the sarcasm, holding out a hand for a shovel. "Good."

After a long glance around revealed the area was still free of people, Adam moved over to help, setting his gun down, but Sam waved him off. "Not yet. We'll take turns digging. Keep the gun up, cover me, ok? Just in case."

Adam picked the gun back up while Sam dug in. The shotgun was a lot heavier than the handgun he'd used before.

"The ghost know when someone is digging it up?"

Sam grunted, throwing a particularly large clod of mud aside. "Yeah, something like that. Sometimes- sometimes they appear where their body is being disturbed- get nasty too, so keep your eyes and ears sharp, ok? Safety off- you might have to use that. If it's gonna kick off, it's usually after the coffin is opened, but- always better to be prepared."

"Ok," said Adam, studying the gun. He glanced around again, just to be safe. "This fire iron bullets too?"

Sam leaned back on the handle of the shovel, foregoing digging for a bit. "Nah. Rock salt."

"They make bullets out of the stuff?" Adam was surprised at that.

"Yeah, you can get it in some places." Sam was back to digging, his words measured between each and every heave of dirt. A clear boundary had emerged around the grave. "But mostly we just make our own."

"Your own? What- your own bullets? That's kinda..." Cool. It was pretty cool; he wasn't going to kid himself otherwise.

"Yeah. If we need to. Here, swap out with me?"

Sam had made a sizeable, (perfectly rectangular) hole in the space of only a little time. He hoisted himself out of the hole, and with growing trepidation, Adam clambered in, shovel in hand. He was waist deep immediately. The smell of the musty earth was one that some would find relaxing. Adam found it sickening.

"I could teach you, if you want," Sam commented, crouching down at the side of the grave. Adam bent down, shoving the shovel into the earth and pulling it free. Straight away, the task felt a lot tougher than Sam had made it look.

"How to make my own bullets?" Adam asked. He supposed it probably would be worth knowing, especially if any more of these things ended up nearby. He hadn't wanted to run in with anything else supernatural again, had only wanted the knowledge  _just in case_ , but he supposed it was the hand he'd been dealt.

"Yeah. Other things too. Homemade flamethrower?"

Adam paused, looking up at Sam incredulously. "You're shitting me."

Sam laughed. "No, it's true. You're not part of the family unless you can make your own flamethrower. I'll teach you."

"A... a flamethrower? What did you even use that on?"

"Bugs." Sam made a face and Adam looked on, amused. The banter with Sam- it almost distracted him from the fact he was almost shoulder-deep in a grave.

"Taking pest control a little seriously there, Sam."

"Oh you have  _no_  idea..."

Adam went back to digging, but it was hard. His shoulders were starting to ache. He hadn't added nearly as much depth to the hole as Sam had, the dirt more tightly packed than he had thought. Added to that, he had dug out of Sam's boundaries- struggling to keep digging straight. Even the skin on his hands was starting to burn. It was when he was starting to feel that he'd never hit the bottom, when, with the final hike of the shovel into the ground, it hit something solid, a hollow  _thunk_  sounding through the cemetery.

The coffin.

"Good one- here," Sam said, holding out a hand to help Adam out of the hole. Adam took the offer gratefully, and Sam helped him up, taking his place back in the hole and clearing the last of the dirt. There was another clunk as he wedged the shovel into the frame of the casket, levying it open a crack, and then Sam clambered out of the hole once again. The coffin was already closed again but an unpleasant smell hung in the air.

Adam blanched.

"All right, you ready?" Sam asked. Adam had the gun firmly back in hand, trying to keep his breathing even.

"What are we expecting here?" he asked, eyeing the closed casket warily.

"I'll open it from here," Sam explained, "salt it, pour petrol on it, then set it on fire. Should be pretty straightforward. You still up for this?"

Adam nodded, his jaw tight.

"All right, then. Just- keep an eye out. If it does jump out at us from anywhere- one of us will shoot it- gives me time to do what I have to do, all right?"

"All right," Adam said, nodding, "go."

Sam used the tip of the shovel to lift the lid of the casket open. There were nought but bones and ruined clothes inside, and with an efficiency that implied plenty of practice, Sam ripped open a bag of salt with his teeth, scattering it over the remains before dumping the fuel on top. He smirked at Adam, pulling out a match and striking it. It caught fire.

And that was when Adam caught sight of the  _very_  angry,  _very_  bloodstained ghost of Richard Monroe that had just very suddenly materialised behind Sam.

"Sam!" he cried out in alarm.

Too late.

The ghost threw out an arm and Sam was thrown somewhere behind him, gun and all. The match hit the grass, fire petering out and the ghost advanced. Hell if it was laying a finger on  _him_ \- a rush of strength pumped into his arms and Adam pointed the gun at it with a vehemence that surprised even him, and fired.

It disappeared, just as it had done that first time in the woods. Only now he knew it wasn't dead. It would be back. The hair on the back of Adam's neck prickled uncomfortably.

"Sam?" Adam called.  _Where was it?_  Where was Sam? Hell- where were the matches? He fought to keep his breathing even as he scanned the area in front of him as carefully as he could. He could feel tremors running down his arms already, paranoia making every shadow suddenly seem a lot more sinister than it was.

"Sam?"

He stepped back, gun still raised, and spun on his heel, aiming to get to Sam. The plan failed- the ghost flickered back into view, practically inches away from his nose and Adam gave a startled shout, tripping backwards.

Too close- almost into the open grave. His arms windmilled but he managed to right himself clumsily. Still, he staggered all the same, breathing heavily from the near miss and bringing the gun back up.

"Adam!" Sam roared. "Get back!"

Adam pointed the shotgun back at the ghost, but it had ideas of its own- with another vicious swipe of its arm, the gun was torn from Adam's grasp. A third motion and Adam was thrown backwards, over the open grave and into another headstone. His eyes blurred from the pain- he'd hit it head first, and he could see the rough bulk of Sam stumbling forward to try and help.

Too slow. Too far.

Not to mention the gaping maw of a hole and the pissed off spirit between them.

_Way too slow._

"Adam!"

His vision cleared and with horror he saw the ghost advancing on him, an ugly smile on its face. It had a knife that was still glinting with  _blood_. Had it got Sam? Adam stumbled to his feet.  
 _  
No. Not again._

His blood was thundering in his ears. He had no weapon, and Sam-  _was he injured? -_  was too slow. He wouldn't make it in time; the ghost was less than two feet away, its knife poised to cut Adam to ribbons.

But it would not be like last time. If he was going down, he was going down swinging.

He darted out of the way of the slash that was aimed at him and with no other options left to him,  _thrust_  a fist for the ghost's face.

"Adam, no-!" Sam hollered from somewhere (still too far away).

Adam's mind chose then to scream at him the uselessness of the action- a cacophony of information that he should have known-  _God_ , he should have run, for what was a fist going to do in the face of a ghost? - he was screwed, he was going to die- he would be cut to bits once again and it was all his fault and-

His fist made contact.

It felt like his hand had been plunged into an icy bucket of water.

And then the ghost dissipated.

Adam blinked, stupefied.

There was no time to bask in the sudden relief- Sam finally reached him, grabbing his shoulder from behind and dragging him back to the open grave. Sam had blood running down the side of his face- he was pale, and Adam fancied that it had nothing to do with the injury. Sam's gun was trained high and when the ghost reappeared once again, with a look of utter contempt on his face, Sam blasted it into smithereens.

He shoved the gun into Adam's grip as soon as they reached the hole, scrambled for the matches, and lit them, lip curling into an ugly snarl as he dropped them into the grave.

The fuel in the grave did the trick- the bones caught fire immediately.

The ghost screeched and it was an awful sound. It burst into flames and the nightmare was finally over.

 

† † †

The fire leaping up from within grave bathed him with warmth. The surreality of the scene was almost hypnotising. He swayed.

Sam led Adam a few feet away, forcing him onto his backside on a grassy knoll. Adam's legs were shaking so much by that point that it made the action easy.

Sam crouched down and a flashlight was shoved into Adam's face. He squinted, suddenly blind.

"Adam. Adam, you all right?" Sam sounded as concerned as Adam had ever heard him. Still, he was more worried about the nausea that was threatening to take over his being once again. It was crawling up his throat, but when he finally opened his mouth, nought but words escaped.

"That was- this is-  _crazy_ ," he declared in a voice that was much too loud to be appropriate for a cemetery. Then again, he supposed he'd blown cemetery etiquette when he'd helped  _dig up a grave_. He laughed, maybe a touch hysterically. "And I- and  _you_ \- and  _Dean_ \- crazy- crazy  _d-does_  run in this family."

Even he knew he wasn't making sense.

Sam was still talking, but Adam tuned him out easily enough, trying to will his hands to  _stop_  shaking. It would probably be easier if the rest of his body joined suit.

And then Sam was  _touching_  him, hands running over the back of his head- and Adam grimaced as Sam's fingers touched over the newest knot standing out at the base of his skull. Sam wasn't done there, his fingers feeling Adam's torso and then going back to Adam's face again. The flashlight followed suit, and Adam was left squinting a second time. A few seconds more of that and then, finally, Sam's fingers made way down Adam's arm until they were clutching his hand.

It was getting a bit too strange now. Adam made a face and leaned away.

"H-Holding h-hands? I h-hope you p-planning on b-buying m-me d-dinner, man, I d-don't c-come cheap." God, when did his teeth start chattering?

"Oh good," Sam said, releasing a shaky sigh, "you're right enough to make jokes. Great." Some of the concern melted from his face, but he still hadn't let go of Adam's hand.

Adam squirmed. "Uh- S-Sam?"

"You- you punched a ghost. In the  _face_ \- you punched it. In the  _face_." Sam said, sounding bewildered. He let Adam's hand go. "I thought you were a gon- that it was going to..."

Oh.

Sam grabbed at Adam's hand again, lifting it between then and flashing the light on it. A glint of silver winked back at them.

"What- what-  _is_  that- an  _iron_  ring?"

Oh. So  _that_  was why the ghost had...

If Adam didn't laugh at that, he was going to cry. "I f-forgot I h-had that o-on."

"You  _forgot_  and you  _still_  tried to punch it in the face? What did you think was going to happen?" Sam didn't know whether to feel incredulous or angry, so he settled for a healthy mix of both.

Adam said nothing, staring at the ring encircling his finger. Such a tiny scrap of metal, and it had saved his life. It was a Christmas miracle. Well, it would have been, if it was anywhere remotely near Christmas.

...He was going to be sick.

Sam sighed again, patting Adam on the shoulder once before standing up. "You feeling ok, right now?"

"F-fresh as a s-spring c-chicken," Adam quipped.  _What did that even mean?_  He wished his teeth would stop chattering.

Sam glared down at him, probably wishing that Adam would take things a little more seriously. All the same, Adam noticed the twitch of Sam's lips, so maybe he wasn't doing everything wrong...

"I guess- for your first time... you did good, Adam," Sam said quietly. "Though maybe next time- we'll try not to rely just on luck."

Ha, no way there was going to be a next time unless it came knocking at Adam's door personally. Ghouls and ghosts- _what was that?_

"Let's get you to the car," Sam said. "I think a trip to the hospital, too- just in case. That's a nasty bump on the back of your head" He reached out a hand and Adam grabbed it. Sam easily pulled Adam to his feet, pretty much all on his own at that, for Adam felt utterly boneless. His legs felt like jelly.

"Adam?" Sam asked carefully, "you all right?"

"Oh  _y-yeah_ ," said Adam cheerfully. "N-never been b-better."

And then he bent over and promptly emptied the contents of his stomach all over Sam's shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and before I forget- the idea for the iron ring came from a textpost I saw on tumblr a good while ago. You guys might have seen it? The one that said the boys should have iron rings so they can punch ghosts in the face, hula-hoops full of salt so they can hula around spirits safely, and waterguns filled with holy water so they can hurt demons more easily. I found the idea of the ring too great to pass up.


	9. The Hook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: 'Supernatural' is the property of Warner Brothers, the CW, and other associated parties. I claim no ownership of the franchise, characters or settings, nor am I affiliated with the above parties in any way. The following is a fan-work, written for my amusement, and not for material or monetary gain. Please support the official releases. (I don't own this).

 

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**Coalescence**

**Chapter 9: The Hook**

† † †

.

.

.

On the plus side, he wasn't feeling sick anymore. The shaking hadn't subsided completely, but it was on its way to leaving him.

Twenty minutes was the length of time it was before Sam made it back to the car after leaving him there while he covered the grave again. He had tried to get the sick off of his shoes, but when Sam shut the door to the driver's side behind him after he climbed into the Impala, an unpleasant smell still lingered.

Sam- Sam had taken it pretty well.

Still, Adam rolled down his window as subtly as he could.

"I think I'm ok now," he commented, staring straight ahead. "I don't need the hospital."

Sam started the car. "We'll go anyway. Just in case, man." The car peeled out from next to the pavement, and a silence settled over them. Contrary to just a little while earlier- contrary to how he'd been feeling for a  _long_  time, Adam felt utterly calm.

"So- was that what you thought it would be?" Sam asked.

"I didn't really... think about it," replied Adam hesitantly. "It was just something I needed to do."

"You didn't know that girl, did you? The one who died?"

What did that have to do with anything? "No. But that doesn't matter. I still- she didn't deserve to die like that."

Sam shot him an appraising look. "No she didn't," he agreed.

Adam fidgeted in his seat. "I should have known. I knew about this stuff and I still didn't see it and she died. That happened because of me- because I didn't know." He felt better because the spirit was gone, eradicated by their own hands no less, but what did his 'good feelings' get Jenny? She was still dead.

Sam slowed the car, glancing over at him and trying to catch his eye. "What happened to her wasn't your fault, Adam. None of it is  _your_  fault. You haven't even known about this stuff that long, and even if you did, it still wouldn't have been on you, man."

"It feels like it is," Adam said quietly. So much so that he'd even felt the need to explain himself to  _Sam_. How long had he been avoiding doing something like that?

"But it's not," Sam relied firmly.

The rest of the drive went by in silence.

 

† † †

So wrapped up in the events between himself and Adam, Dean had slipped from Sam's mind completely while he sat on a metal chair in the hospital relatives room, waiting for Adam to be done.

At least they'd ruled out concussion pretty much immediately. The hysteria could probably all be related back to the come down off of adrenaline, but it was always better to be safe where your siblings were concerned...

His cell rang.

"Yeah?"

"Sam?" Dean's voice sounded crackly over the line. He was probably still in the woods... waiting for Sam's call. Sam nearly groaned. He had completely forgotten.

"Dean? Sorry man, I-"

"It's done?"

"Yeah, it's done."

"Halle- _freaking_ -lujah, Sammy, I was getting worried, man. Salt and burn jobs don't take that long- what, were you having a nap? Where are you? I need a pickup."

"I'm at the hospital, Dean," Sam said without thinking. The words tumbled out of his mouth faster than his brain could stop them. He swore under his breath.

" _Hospital?_ " Whereas Dean's words had been in his standard drawl a few seconds ago, now they were as sharp as razor wire. "Why- you all right?"

"Yeah- no, Dean, I'm fine-" the small cut just below his own hairline had already been dealt with by a pretty blonde nurse and even if it hadn't been, the injury wasn't anything Sam couldn't deal with himself. Sam wasn't at the hospital for himself, after all.

He was there for Adam.

And Dean didn't know that Adam was with Sam.

Dean didn't know that Sam had taken Adam on a  _hunt_.

"Really, I'm fine- you should go back to the motel," Sam tried futilely. It took all his willpower to keep desperation from colouring his words, but he managed it.

"What?" Dean sounded offended at the very idea. "No- I'll meet you at the hospital. Sit tight."

Leaving no room for argument, Dean hung up.

Sam leaned back, allowing his head to thump into the wall.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid-_

This time, he really did groan.

 

† † †

Dean strode into the hospital on a mission. He went straight up to the receptionist at the front desk, a no-nonsense frown on his face, and asked to be pointed in the direction of 'David Webber'.

The receptionist took no notice of his tone, and replied that 'Mr. Webber' had been discharged already, and was currently waiting in the waiting room.

Waiting? Well he must have been waiting for Dean, or he would have called him on his way out. Sam's injury really  _must_  have been a minor one. Good.

It was with a lighter step that Dean made it to the waiting room. Sam was sitting hunched in his chair, head held in his hands. He hadn't noticed Dean's arrival.  _Tired, headache or head injury?_  Dean narrowed his eyes, crossing the room in three easy steps and shaking his brother's shoulder.

"Sammy?"

Sam startled.

"Dean!"

First Dean took note of the small bit of gauze taped to Sam's head. Then he noticed the expression. Sam looked... guilty? Or maybe Dean was just seeing things.

"How did you get here so fast? You only called like-"

"Twenty minutes ago, I know." Dean smirked. "Trade secrets, Sam, if I told you I'd-"

"Have to kill me. Right." Sam laughed.

"You done here? Everything-?"

"-Everything is  _fine_ , yeah. I'm fine, Dean, really, it was nothing."

"Atta boy." Dean clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's get outta here."

And suddenly Sam was looking uncomfortable again.

"Yeah, about that-"

Dean had barely enough time for a question to flash through his mind when the door ahead of them swung open and the last person he would have expected strode out.

Adam still hadn't seen Dean.

But Dean had seen Adam.

"Oh you have  _got_  to be freakin' kidding me," Dean growled.

Sam grimaced.

 

† † †

The ride back to the motel the Winchesters were staying at was a quiet one. The Impala roared away, but the occupants of the car were silent.

Dean was  _angry_. That much Adam knew for certain. Then again, as far as he'd seen, Dean only came in a few shades- jackass, smartass or angry...ass. (It sounded better in his head.)

Still, he hadn't said anything to Adam. Which was weird, because he'd been furious when they'd found Adam in the woods, too. And before that, he'd had no problem knocking Adam on his ass when he  _thought_  Adam was going to do something he disapproved of.

Adam guessed that Dean was waiting until they were all behind closed doors before anything too drastic happened. It was the reason he was being dragged with them to their motel rather than back to university, after all.

And so, the ride to the motel was quiet.

...Until Sam sucked in a breath and very earnestly said "Dean-"

"Can it, Sam."

Ouch. Even Adam grimaced at that abrupt shut down.

Sam didn't try again, and Adam wasn't feeling suicidal enough to open  _his_  mouth.

And so, the ride to the motel was quiet.

 

† † †

"All right, kid, pick a bed. Get some sleep. Sam, you're with me." Dean deposited a duffel bag onto a table in the motel room. Adam took in the tacky wallpaper, the cramped room, and glanced back at Dean, who was already on his way back out of the room. Sam was still hovering outside the door.

"Wait- where are you going?"

Why had Dean bought him here if not to give him a 'stern' talking to?

" _Out._ "

Adam made a face. He was starting to get real sick of this guy. "Then I got no reason to stick around."

"Yeah? How about you just  _do_." Dean blocked the exit merely by turning around.

"How about  _no?_ " Adam snapped. If Dean was raring for a fight- this time Adam would be prepared.

"Adam-" Sam tried.

"No, Sam," Adam said, cutting his half-brother off, "he has something to say, he should just say it. I'm not staying here while he goes off playing intervention- or whatever the hell he's trying to do."

Dean let out a harsh bark of laughter. "I've been saying it- the both of you don't want to listen, though, do you?"

"He did good, Dean," Sam said quietly from outside the door. Dean threw him a dark look, evidently not ready to forgive Sam this newest betrayal yet, and Sam frowned, crossing the threshold and shutting the three of them into the cramped room.

" _Look_  at him, Sam," Dean said, sounding far too tired for the hour. Dean was certified nocturnal, after all. But it was true that Adam didn't look well, for his face was still bruised from his first encounter in the woods, and the back of his head from the second. His clothes were dirty with sweat and blood, and his skin a tad too pale for normal.

"He looks like we do after a hunt, Dean," Sam said, "better, even. It's not- it looks worse than it is. No concussion- it was just shock- adrenaline-"

"I don't care! He shouldn't be looking like that- he shouldn't have even  _been_  there, Sam, we  _talked_  about this-"

"No,  _you_  talked, Dean. You need to let Adam decide what he wants for himself," Sam countered.

"Maybe," Dean accepted, "but so do you."

Sam looked a little confused at that- but Dean knew. Knew that Sam wanted Adam in, knew that maybe he wasn't the only brother trying to enforce his will on Adam, even if he was more heavy handed about it.

Still, could anyone blame him? Hunting was death and they'd all lost enough. Why the hell was this so hard for Sam to see?

"He's just a kid, Sam."

"I wanted to be there," Adam said loudly. They were arguing about  _him_  he sure as hell wasn't going to stand there as ignored as a piece of furniture. Maybe he hadn't got everything he'd wanted from the escapade at the graveyard; closure still eluded him, and the guilt still sat thick, but Sam had tried to help him and even if Adam thought his half-brothers were full of it, it was only right he stood up for someone who tried to do him a favour.

Dean scoffed, looking away from Sam as he rounded on Adam once again. "No, you don't even know what you want. You need to make up your mind, kid. You want in or you want out, you don't get to choose both."

They didn't have time to run between Adam and the apocalypse. When he'd made the decision to have them teach Adam some tricks, it had been so that if anything  _did_  happen, Adam knew enough to get the hell out of dodge and to safety long enough for the Winchesters to deal with the problem. He had thought Adam understood that. Hell, Adam's own admissions seemed to back that up, but when it came down to it- when there really was problems, Adam had plans of his own.

Enough.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," Dean continued. "I told you already, the decision's been made- you're not in, you're out. You're not doing this anymore."

"Dean-"

"If something comes after me, if something comes  _near_  me- I'm gonna deal with it!" Adam cried heatedly. "I told you I'm not-"

"We were  _here_ ," Dean shouted over him, "we were here to deal- you didn't have to get involved! You had to just sit back-"

"I sat back and someone  _died_!"

"Adam, that wasn't your fault," Sam interjected.

Dean had his eyes narrowed as he glanced between the two younger men. He visibly reigned himself in, letting out a quick hiss of breath before affirming what Sam had just said. "He's right- it wasn't your fault." Hell, if that was why Adam was being stupid, it was better to hit that problem on the head before it got any worse. "But you going out there, man- you could have ended up like that Jenny chick. You could have got in the way- and someone  _else_  would have been eating dirt because of it. Then what? You can't just-" he trailed off into a frustrated sigh. "Sam, you  _should_  have known better than to take him out there."

"He  _wanted_  in, Dean," Sam said defensively.

"And that had nothing at all to do with you, right?" Dean countered, making a face. "I mean, it's not like you  _wanted_  him there with you, is it? I'm sure you tried your damn best to show him why this is  _such a bad idea,_  right, Sam?"

The flash of guilt in Sam's eyes was enough to let Dean know his jibe had hit the mark.

"Not just me, man," Sam said lowly. "You're the one who told him what this was. You're the reason he was out there to begin with. He was gonna go whatever either of us said, Dean. And that- that is  _not_  on me."

"He could have died," Dean growled.

"Yeah," said Sam, "he could have."

They were talking about different things.

The two were staring hard at each other. Adam felt as if they were so caught up trying to one-up each other that they'd forgotten he was there. They had their own issues with each other, he realised, something that extended past Adam. He narrowed his eyes.

They were using him as an excuse...

Still, Sam had a point. He owed it to Jenny to be out there. His laziness had gotten her killed. Once he realised that...

"Sam's right. I would have gone- figured it out myself. I owed it to Jenny."

"You didn't know her, we checked," Dean said irritably. "You're not responsible."

"Oh-  _De-_ " Sam sounded supremely frustrated and Adam narrowed his eyes.

"What is that even supposed to mean? You checked? And- what-? How am I  _not_  responsible? I  _know_  about all this stuff now- how can I not feel responsible when it happens and I could have stopped it?"

"That's not what I-"

"Because it's not up to you to save everyone- that's not how it works," Sam explained. "It feels bad not being able to do it, sure, but it's not on you-"

"So  _dad_  wasn't responsible for what happened to my mom then?" Adam cut in bitterly, "because I don't care what you say- the only person I blame here for that was him."

There was silence, the Winchester's looking unsurprised at that admission. Sam settled himself on the bed, his hand shoving his longer hair out of his face and letting out an aggravated sigh.

"That was different," Dean said finally

"The hell it was," Adam argued. "I get that you've been doing this for a long time, ok? But so had dad, right? I needed- I  _needed_  to make sure this was done properly. I need to know how. Because what happened to me- if I  _can_  stop it happening to others than I will, I don't care what you say. I told you- I'm not gonna hunt these things down but if they come near me, then I'm gonna be there to see them burn."

Dean sighed, running a weathered hand down his face. "Look kid, I get it, ok? I get where you're coming from, I do-  _believe me_ , I do." And there was something in that that Adam  _did_ believe, despite how much he'd clashed with Dean lately, but Dean wasn't done. "But you need to understand- it's not as simple as dipping a toe in the lake to see how cold the water is, all right? I don't know- Sam probably drilled you already on what doing this means for you, right?"

Sam was quiet.

"Sam?" Dean asked, and the middle brother fidgeted. An air of amusement overtook Dean's weary frame, and he straightened up. "No? No speeches on losing connections? On putting your loved ones in danger?" Dean tutted, tilting his head condescendingly. " _Sam._ "

Adam looked between the two Winchesters. "What are you talking about?"

"I wanted to ease him into it," Sam said, eyes boring into Dean's.

"Wasn't like that last time," said Dean, and Sam bristled.

"Now that- that was different."

They were doing it again- so wrapped up in trying to needle each other that Adam was in danger of becoming as ignored as a piece of background furniture.

"What are you talking about?" Adam repeated louder.

"What I'm  _talking_  about," said Dean, "is that this isn't something you do when you feel like it. The deeper you get into this- the more attention you draw to yourself, the less chance you got of getting out. The more you put people who  _know_  you in danger because one day- something  _will_  follow you home- and yeah, you know  _exactly_  what I'm talking about."

Adam glared. "If you're talking about my mom again, I swear I-"

"You're an amateur, kid. I get it- something hurt you- hurt your mom, and you don't want other people to get hurt the way they did if you can do something about it, but you have _got_  to get this through your skull. The more you do this, the more chance you have of getting yourself killed- getting your  _friends_ \- getting your  _girlfriend_  killed because you drag them down while you're too busy trying to prove something. This- today- it has to be end of it. You have our numbers- you can call us, man- you don't have to do this- you don't  _want_  to do this-"

If Adam didn't know better, he would have thought Dean was desperate- he seemed a step away from pleading with him.

Sam hadn't told him about any of that. Then again, after what happened to his mother, Adam wondered how he hadn't inferred the obvious outcome for himself.

"Dean," Sam said, cutting his brother off, "don't-"

"Ok," said Adam. "Ok."

"Wait- ok?" asked Sam.

Adam nodded. "Look, I told you- unless it has something to do with me- I'm not gonna get involved. I don't think I'm cut out for doing this like you guys are," he said, shrugging. "Tonight taught me that much, at least." Sam looked set to disagree with him- vocally at that, but Adam ploughed on. "But Dean- this was too close- I couldn't  _not_  do anything- I can't be that person. And if something like this happens again- I'm gonna be there to do something about it."

Dean was staring at him blankly.

"In what way is that remotely 'ok'?" he asked. Adam had just disagreed with pretty much everything Dean had said.

"Look, Dean," Adam continued, "after my mom, and now Jenny? I guess that's it for my quota on the supernatural, right? I mean, what's the odds of me meeting something else weird, right? It's not like I'm looking for it. And after Jenny-" he scoffed at his own stupidity. "It's not like I'd recognise it even if it was right under my nose- not unless it was obvious. I'm gonna be at school- I'm not on some- some crusade, ok? I don't want to get people hurt. And I told you I'll call you guys if I need to. And if something happens near me and I figure it out, I'll call you- I won't go it alone, but I will come with you when you come to deal because I have to know it's done, all right?"

"You don't know what you're  _doing_ ," Dean said, sounding frustrated.

"If you need to you can  _teach_  me- you've done it before."

"What- we're meant to Mr. Miyagi you from the sidelines when we go on hunts? Didn't you learn anything from today?" Dean demanded.

"I'm a fast learner," Adam replied steadily. "I'm not promising you more than that, Dean, sorry. I'm not that person."

He wasn't sorry.

This was something he had to do. He couldn't hide if something came knocking at his door. Especially if he could help spare others the pain he had felt at the hands of the monsters. He wondered if Dean understood that.

Indeed, Dean was considering  _something_ , his green eyes focussed on Adam with a startling intensity, and Adam fought the urge to fidget.

"That's the best I'm getting out of you, isn't it?" Dean asked almost offhandedly, rolling his shoulders.

Adam nodded.

Dean sighed, rolling his neck and striding over to his bed. "I can't make you stay away from all this," he finally said. "I'm done telling you what a bad idea this is. So you know what? Fine. That's what you wanna do? Do it. But the consequences- kid, that's on you." Dean's eyes were fixed on him, steely pools of emerald that held his gaze. There was no hint of a smirk left on his face- much like he had been in the crypt when Adam had first seen him, Dean was utterly serious. "If we're done with this..." Dean said, finally turning away, "you can have the other bed-  _Sam_  here is takin' the couch."

By the surprised look on Sam's face, that was news to him. Then again, Adam figured Dean was more pissed at Sam for taking Adam to the cemetery than at Adam for being there. On that front, he really just seemed worried. It was weird.

"We'll take you back to school tomorrow," Dean said.

And just like that, the discussion was over. The 'fine' Dean had given him was bordering on sullen, but it wasn't  _disagreement_ , so Adam had that.

It was nearly three in the morning.

The excitement of the day seemed to catch up with him all at once, and his eyes felt immediately heavy. He carefully measured his steps and did his best not to stagger to the bed- Dean and Sam were both watching him, and he didn't want to embarrass himself. Dean already thought him incapable of looking after himself- Adam knew it. He barely had enough strength to pull back the covers before he flopped down, kicking his shoes off and not caring where they landed.

His eyes fluttered shut.

...The bed was lumpy.

Adam frowned.

_Great._

"You sure that this- staying here- is what you really want?" Sam asked quietly from somewhere in front of him.

Sam wasn't talking about staying in the motel room.

There was silence across the room. Dean had stopped doing whatever he was doing, and was obviously listening. Adam didn't bother opening his eyes.

"S'what my mom wanted," he all but slurred. "Bed's better too."

Dean snorted.

"All right," said Sam. "If that's what you want." He sounded disappointed.

"Mmmuh," Adam murmured. He sighed, letting sleep take him.

 

† † †

And so, early the following morning, the Winchesters left Adam at university once again. It was Saturday- and not even eight yet- the campus was dead. Adam himself wasn't feeling much better, his sleep the night before uncomfortable, even if he hadn't woken from as many nightmares this time.

As he settled into his bed, he comforted himself with the fact that he had no lectures to go to, so he could sleep for as long as he wanted.

Then, just as he was starting to drift off, a knock sounded at his door.

He groaned. He wasn't getting it.

"Adam! Open the door!"

"Go 'way," Adam grumbled, turning onto his side.

The knocking grew more frantic.

Adam sighed.  _This had better be good._

Throwing the covers off, he got up and stumbled to the door.

 _Max_  rushed in. "Oh good, you're up!"

Adam squinted at him. "Yeah-  _now_."

Max beamed back at him.

"What?" Adam asked warily. It was too early to be that happy.

"I finally finished them! Man, oh man, you have  _got_  to read them-"

"Wait- you're here this early over a  _book_?" Adam groaned. "You serious?"

"Not just  _a_  book,  _the_  books," Max explained, brandishing the one he'd bought with him wildly.

"Get out," Adam said flatly, slumping back into bed. He pulled the covers over his head.

Max was still talking.  _Oh for the love of-_

"Come on, man- you're the only one who hadn't kicked me out yet-"

"Not for a lack of trying," Adam muttered. His words were muffled by the blankets covering his face, and Max carried on blithely.

"I was up all night finishing the last one- Adam, man, you have  _got_  to read them-"

Adam let out a pitiful moan. "Max. Go."

"They're about these brothers who go around the country saving people and hunting monsters. And yeah, I know it sounds lame, but really, it's cool, trust me on this."

Ha. Funny. Adam knew brothers who did that for real, what did he need books for?

"Look, Max-"

"Anyway, they got into hunting the supernatural when a demon pinned their mom to the ceiling and set her on fire-"

 _Grisly._  
  
"- in front of their dad when they were kids. So the brothers and their dad, John go around fighting evil-"

 _John?_ Huh. What a coincidence.

"-but there was this big fallout between the baby brother, Sam and his dad, and Sam went to college and left. But  _then_  a few years later the dad goes missing and the older brother Dean shows up, and he's all  _'dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days-'"_  
 _  
Ok, what-?_

Adam sat up. "Give me that," he demanded.

Max grinned, handing the book over. "See, I figured you'd like it- you're into that 'forces of evil' stuff, right? And these books- they're really heavy on mythology and stuff- you're into that. I know you'd like them-"

Adam ignored Max, who was  _still_  talking, and studied the book. The cover was uninspiring, white text on a black cover. The image on the front was even more off-putting, but there it was, the  _Impala_ , and he guessed that was Dean and Sam too- and hell, Sam's hair looked a lot like that, even if Adam would rather have not have seen him topless.

Just how much of a coincidence was this?

The blurb was simple enough-  _'Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious Woman in White leads men to their deaths... A terrifying phenomenon that may be Sam and Dean's first clue to their father's whereabouts.'_

He couldn't shake the feeling that this was _wrong_. John, Sam, Dean- they were all common enough names, but add the theme of the supernatural and the Impala, and even illustrations at the front that looked far too much like the Winchesters for Adam to be comfortable with? There were too many similarities for this to  _just_  be a coincidence, right?

He got out of the bed.

"Can I borrow this?" Adam asked distractedly.

"Yeah- I have the whole series so far-"

"Cool, thanks." Adam said, pushing Max out the door.

"Let me know what you think-!" Max called as the door was shut in his face.

Adam flipped the book open, ambling back to his bed and taking a seat.

_'22 Years Ago: Lawrence, Kansas_

If someone were to ask him about it later, John would have said the signs were all there. Electrical storms. Cattle mutilations. A number of other strange happenings that most would have passed off as odd but inconsequential.

As it was, on that night, John hadn't known any better. He watched with a smile on his face as his wife, Mary, carried their oldest son into the baby's nursery.

"Come on let's say goodnight to your brother," she said, flicking the lights on and bathing the nursery in a warm light. It only made her blonde hair shine more brightly. Wreathed in her white nightgown, Mary looked like an angel-'

Adam reached for his phone.

 

† † †

His phone was vibrating. Sam reached over and turned the music down, shaking the phone in Dean's direction when his older brother threw him a questioning look.

"It's Adam," Sam said.

"Already?"

Sam shrugged, raising the phone to his ear. "Yeah?" Adam said  _something_  and Sam frowned. "What did you just- how did you- yeah it's- no, wait- ok, stay there, we're- in your room? Right, we'll be there in a little while. Ok. Ok, later."

He ended the call, looking far too troubled for Dean's liking.

"Let me guess," Dean drawled, " _'we have to go back'_?"

"...Yeah," said Sam quietly. He was looking at his phone with an odd expression on his face.

"All right." The tyres to the car screeched as Dean turned her around. There wasn't even an argument about it. Sam guessed that between all the arguing the night before, Dean really had been listening to what Adam was saying. "What's he got?" Dean asked, as the car sped back in the direction it came. No way Adam would call them back for anything  _but_ the job.

"Did you ever tell him about mom?" Sam asked instead. "I don't mean that she was killed- I mean- how it happened?"

"Uh-  _no_ ," said Dean, looking at Sam like he was insane. "Why would I do that?"

"What about the Woman in White- you tell him about her?"

"No."

"He knew," said Sam, his brows furrowed in thought. "Said a book had it written down."

"A book?"

"A book," Sam repeated with a nod.

" _A book,_ " Dean said, a frown settling over his features. "Huh. Guess... that is our sort of thing."

_Goddamnit, Adam._

 

† † †

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh heh, Adam, you’ve not met your supernatural quota so fast- you’re not that lucky, kid. 
> 
> And next chapter will be out... probably late. I’ll try for next Wednesday, but this is where I really mean life gets busy as hell. I have maybe... 2000 words written so far and I haven’t even got past the first ten minutes of 4x18: The Monster at the End of the Book, yet. With any hope the next chapter will be mega long again so I can split it up again and give you guys some consecutive chapters. Wish me luck!
> 
> I’ll see you when I see you, dears! Thanks for all the feedback, you’re all brilliant.


	10. Tension

**Disclaimer:** ‘ _Supernatural’_ _is the property of Warner Brothers, the CW, and other associated parties. I claim no ownership of the franchise, characters or settings, nor am I affiliated with the above parties in any way. The following is a fan-work, written for my amusement, and not for material or monetary gain. Please support the official releases. (I don’t own this)._

 

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**Coalescence**

By Payce D. Elui

**Chapter 10: Tension**

 

† † †

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Adam had been skimming through the book when Sam and Dean had arrived. He'd gotten past the death of Mary Winchester (and flinched at that- it rivalled what happened to his own mother), past Dean breaking into Sam's apartment at _Stanford_ , (for all Sam's enthusiasm for the hunt, it seemed that once he too was more interested in life outside of it), and to the co-ordinates that John Winchester had left Dean. It was weird, seeing the relationship between Sam and Dean in the book.   
  
He had noticed it during his own interactions with them- even for brothers, they seemed very close. But obviously it was a bond that had grown stronger with time, because in the book, they started off a lot more edgy around one another than they were currently. Dean, for one, seemed like much less of an angry person, while Sam was the opposite. If the book was to be believed, then both his half-brothers had changed a lot throughout the years.  
  
It was when Adam got to the part of Sam leaving Stanford with Dean that the brothers burst into the room.   
  
They didn't even bother to knock.  
  
That didn't come as a surprise to Adam at all. He had a feeling that the Winchesters weren't big on boundaries anyway, much less than with 'family.' Still, he couldn't help himself from raising an eyebrow and drawling- "thanks for knocking," before he went back at the book in his hands.   
  
"That the book?" Sam asked redundantly.  
  
Adam held it up. He wouldn't lie and say the cover wasn't just a little bit hilarious. A topless, oiled up Sam and a stiff looking Dean in front of the Impala- for all the seriousness inside the outside made it look like _'Supernatural'_ was a gaudy harlequin romance novel- brokeback style. "Sam, does that look like you? I think it looks like you… Dean is definitely shorter than this, by the way."   
  
Dean made a face, striding across the room and snatching the book up.   
  
"What the hell _is_ this?" He turned the book over, reading the blurb with narrowed eyes before he flipped through the pages in quick succession. His expression grew darker with every sentence he absorbed, and with a growl he flipped to somewhere near the back.  
  
"... Dean?" Sam asked, coming up behind his brother.   
  
"Near as I can tell, it's all in here," Dean said irritably. "What the hell? Mom, dad- Jess- even the _Smurfs shirt_ , man."  
  
Sam took the book. "Carver Edlund, huh? Who the hell is this guy?"

“Carver Edland’s a penname. He goes by Chuck Shurley in real life. Born 1975, which makes him around 35. Doesn’t live too far from here, actually, published a bunch of books in this series. At least 20 so far.”  
  
Both Sam and Dean gave him surprised looks. It was like they'd forgotten about him being in the room, once again.  
  
"What?" Adam asked, inexplicably peeved at the thought. "Soon as it looked legit I checked up on it- you're not the only ones who know how to Google something."  
  
"All right, all right," Dean said, waving a hand at him. "Guess we're on this. Thanks for the heads up, kid. We'll look into it. C'mon, Sam." Dean made for the door, and Adam stood up.  
  
"Wait- you're just going?"  
  
Dean turned around. "Uh- yeah. We got the info, now we deal with the problem. Why?"  
  
Adam scowled at him. "You're not forgetting something?"  
  
Dean looked around. "What?"  
  
Sam cleared his throat.   
  
"What?" asked Dean again, looking confused.  
  
"I'm coming with you," Adam said loudly.  
  
Dean looked even more confused. "What?"  
  
"I'm coming," Adam repeated firmly.  
  
"No you're not," said Dean.   
  
"I told you if it was something to do with me-" Adam started, but Dean cut in.  
  
"Hey- I heard you last night. I may not have liked it, but fine, whatever. But this- this isn't 'near' you- it's nothing to do with you."  
  
"Uh- actually... Dean?" Sam said, licking his lips.  
  
"What?" asked Dean a fifth time.  
  
"Mysterious author knows about us- and from this book- they know a hell of a lot, man. What's to say they don't know about Adam?"  
  
"Right," said Adam. "You're all big on keeping a low profile, but, uh, if he ends up writing about me- well, there goes my low profile. Then I really will be a target. So will my friends."  
  
And it was true. The books weren't bestsellers, but people _were_ reading them. All it took was the wrong kind of person to read it and Adam was royally screwed. Hell, he wouldn't have put it past Max to put two and two together if a future book in the series came out with the inclusion of one Adam Milligan. This- this was definitely something that counted as 'Adam's Problem'.  
  
It was interesting to see Dean Winchester backed into a corner by something he couldn't break. His shoulders hunched, his eyes shuttered, but instead of making him seem smaller, he just looked more solid; a spring wound tight and ready to burst into action.   
  
Dean didn't want him along for the ride, Adam knew that much. Still, aside from the small frown gracing his lips, he didn't look too bothered by the events. And Adam knew for a fact that Dean was bothered. Still, if it hadn't been for Dean's vehemence the other times Adam had talked to him, he really wouldn't have known any better.   
  
"You have school," Dean tried.  
  
"It's Saturday tomorrow," Adam replied flatly.  
  
"Pretty sure exam season is soon, right? Don't you need to be cramming or something? You know- locked up in a library somewhere?"   
  
"Never been much of a crammer," Adam said, matching Dean's easy tone. "Besides, my exams are a while away, it's no big deal."  
  
Dean studied him with serious eyes.  
  
"We _can_ deal with this without you, you know," Dean said. "It won't even take long- you don't need to worry about being dragged into this. We'll stop it."  
  
"If it's that easy, we can be back for Monday, then," said Adam, smirking. "Deal with it and I'll even be back in time for my lectures. We're both happy."  
  
"Let me guess," Dean said, a touch of sourness in his voice. "Something you have to see done personally."  
  
"You know it," Adam said, tilting his head challengingly but not breaking eye contact.   
  
Sam cleared his throat again, and Dean glanced over at him with dull eyes. Sam raised his eyebrows and nodded over at Adam, who tried to hide the expression on his face.  
  
_Was that meant to be subtle?_ Sam's eyebrows were far too emotive to pass for subtle.   
  
"Ok, fine," Dean grumbled, throwing his hands up. True to his words the night before, he really _didn't_ try to dissuade Adam from coming along- not as strenuously as he had done before, anyway. "Grab your bag and be quick about it. But you're doing what we say when we say it, got it?"  
  
"I'll be two seconds," Adam promised, grabbing a bag and throwing some clothes into it. With a second's hesitation he grabbed his notebook and stuffed that into the bag, too. And just like that, he was ready.  


† † †

  
  
Adam was three steps behind the Winchesters, just outside Barnard Hall, when Dominic pounced. "Hey, man- ready to get me my pizza?"   
  
Adam was surprised that Imogen hadn't got to Dominic yet. He'd expected a punch to the face, not a friendly tussle. Dominic would have been the first person she told about the gun, after all. He wondered why she'd kept quiet.  
  
Sam and Dean turned around. "Adam?" Sam called.  
  
"Yeah, hang on-"   
  
Dominic turned round, spotting Adam's brothers. Crap. What was Adam meant to say? Well he didn't have to tell Dominic who they were...   
  
"Uh, Dom?" He said, trying for his friend's attention. "We'll take a rain check on the pizza- I have somewhere to be this weekend, man."  
  
Dominic looked between Sam and Dean and Adam. An understanding look crossed his face. "Yeah, ok. It's good you're talking to the grief counsellors, man- I think it'll help you. Didn't know they took you away somewhere though. What do I know?"  
  
Adam blinked. "What?"  
  
"You know," Dominic said, pointing behind him. "Them."  
  
Looking over at them, Sam gave him a small- _guilty?_ \- smile.  
  
"So long as I get my pizza eventually," Dominic was saying. "Don't think you're wriggling out of that one, bro."   
  
"Uh, yeah..." said Adam slowly, looking between Dominic and the Winchesters. "I should be back for Monday, yeah?"   
  
"Yeah, take care man. Text me or somethin' if you get bored."  
  
Adam nodded, "thanks man."  
  
Dominic sauntered off, clapping Dean on the back as he went, telling him to keep an eye on "his boy."  
  
_What the hell-_  
  
"Hey!" Dean called, starting off for the nearest car park. "Pick up the pace."  


 

† † †

  
  
"So, you gonna tell me what that was about?" Adam asked as he settled into the back of the Impala once again. It felt as weird as it usually did with Dean behind the wheel, but Sam was sitting up front, and Adam didn't think that that would change anytime soon.   
  
"What?" asked Dean.  
  
"Dominic was under the impression that you were _grief counselors,”_ Adam drawled.  
  
There was a suspicion dawning on him, though it hadn't fully realised itself yet. But it was starting to make sense... how else would Dean have known so much about him? It wasn't a secret that Sam and Dean posed under different identities and professions while they were on jobs- he'd seen them playing feds already.   
  
"What, you want us to say it?" Dean asked.   
  
"Yeah, you know, I think I do," said Adam.  
  
"We were posing as grief counselors to get around the campus," Sam explained, turning around. "Got us in to talk to Jenny's friends... same thing with your friends, too." He smiled guiltily. "Sorry."  
  
Adam frowned at him. "That's creepy, man."  
  
"Exactly what I said!" Dean said, nudging Sam.   
  
"Yeah, well." Adam saw Sam roll his eyes in the mirror.  
  
"You could have just... called or something, you know," he said lightly. "Don't follow my friends around again- that's... just don't do it."  
  
"Yeah, because you were in such a rush to talk to us before," Dean grumbled.   
  
"Hey- at least I text Sam, you guys didn't hit me up once," Adam said, and the words came out more defensively than he'd planned. He couldn't help it- the silence from Sam had felt like more of a betrayal than he'd expected. Sure, Sam had helped him deal with Jenny's murder, but Adam hadn't bought up the text. He'd had no opportunity to. Right now, he supposed, was as good a time as any.  
  
"What?" Sam turned around, cocking an eyebrow. "When?"  
  
"Sometime over spring break," Adam said, narrowing his eyes. He didn't want to look at Sam just then, so he turned his head to stare out of the window instead.   
  
"I didn't get anything," said Sam, looking confused. "Man, if I had, I would have sent something back- I wouldn't have just ignored you."  
  
"Well I sent it," Adam said.  
  
"And Sam said he didn't get it," said Dean. The tone of voice sounded rather accusatory to Adam, who responded angrily in kind.  
  
"You calling me a liar?"  
  
"What? No!" Dean exclaimed, taking a second to turn away from the road to frown back at him. "I'm saying- shit happens. Maybe it got lost- a phone line went down or somethin'- _Sam_ wouldn't ditch you if you messaged him."  
  
That soothed the flare of his temper- he'd half expected Dean to start yelling at him, not a legitimate explanation. Still, Adam couldn't help himself from adding; “Well I'm saying you could have tried that first instead of interrogating my friends. That's not cool.”  
  
"All right, we get it," said Dean loudly, “but you weren't exactly the most talkative person around, kid- you blew us off every chance you got.”  
  
"Yeah- like you were any different," Adam retorted, glaring at the back of Dean's head. "Don't put this all on me- you're the ones that messed up here."  
  
Dean was about to say something, but the words died on his lips when Sam uttered a soft "huh."  
  
Dean glanced at him. "What?"  
  
Sam was looking at his phone. "You _did_ text me..."  
  
"That _is_ what I just said," said Adam, annoyed.  
  
"It's right here- _'Hey Sam. How's things?’_ , sent Saturday March 14th at 7:33pm," Sam said slowly. "I actually think I remember now- but uh..."   
  
"Zachariah," Dean growled.  
  
"Yeah," Sam nodded.   
  
"That son of a bitch," Dean growled under his breath.  
  
Sam chuckled. "Yeah, that's, uh- one way of putting it."  
  
"What am I missing?" Adam cut in, brow arched. "Who the hell is Zachariah?"  
  
"An ass," said Dean quickly. "Don't worry about it."  
  
"Point is," said Sam, "Adam, man- sorry, we weren't exactly ourselves when you sent this. It was... A weird couple of weeks-"  
  
"No kidding," Dean muttered.  
  
"I didn't know who you were, man," said Sam. "I didn't even know Dean was my brother- someone was messing with us. I must have forgot about the text later, sorry man."  
  
Made Sam forget _Dean_ was his brother? Must have been some head trip that the two had been sent on. With the weird he knew the Winchesters handled, he didn't think they were bullshitting... 

  
"All right," he accepted, "fine. But my point still stands- you wanna check in on me, you come to _me_. You don't- my friends- don't bring them into it. Was following me around really easier than talking to me?"  
  
"Yes," Dean replied flatly, no hesitation at all.   
  
"What Dean _means_ ," said Sam, shooting a killer glare at the brother sitting across from him, and trying to soften the verbal blow, "was that- look, when it comes down to it- we _are_ family, but you don't know us. And when we last spoke- well, you didn't _want_ us around. We figured you were still feeling the same, so instead of- I dunno, bugging you- your friends would know how you were without being- weirded out about talking to us. And the following around- that's not... I didn't know about that," he said with a shrug.  
  
So they'd gone with his friends because it was _easier_. There was something hurtful in that- his friends and his _blood_ talking about him behind his back. He knew he hadn't made it easy for any of them, but there was something _wrong_ there. He wondered how much they'd gleaned from his friends when Adam himself hadn't been keeping up with them as much, anyway.   
  
Though it was true- he hadn't _wanted_ to talk to Sam or Dean. He knew they were family- but they weren't _family_ \- not yet. Still, when he was faced with them a second time, it was a lot easier.  
  
"If I hadn't caught Dean in the library," Adam said slowly, "would you even have told me you were there?"  
  
"No," said Dean at the same time Sam said "yes."  
  
Adam swallowed. Whether they'd reached an agreement presently or not; he supposed that if there was a reason he had yet to fully trust the Winchesters as 'family', that was it.   
  
At least on that front they were honest. As honest as two people who made a career out of lying could be, anyway.  
  
"Right," said Adam, leaning back in his seat. It was suddenly much too stuffy and Adam rolled down the window. Dean was driving so fast by this point that the loud rush of air against the car was drowning out anything else that he or Sam were saying, and Adam breathed deeply.   
  
He didn't want to be hurt by Dean's admission- but a small part- the tiniest corner of a speck in the deepest chasm of his chest _did_ hurt at it. He didn’t regard these people as family, but they were still _something._  
  
If that wasn't stupidly frustrating, he didn't know what was.   
  
He didn't even _like_ the Winchesters. Dean was an ass, and Sam- Sam may have been less of an ass- he'd at least helped Adam- but it sounded like he'd also propagated the idea to go behind Adam's back and follow his friends around, even if shadowing Adam himself was a step too far for him. That- that was pretty assholeish behaviour. Then there was _John,_ and that was a whole other bag of issues.  
  
Thoughts of his father inevitably bought up thoughts of his mother, and Adam frowned, rolling the window back up. That was enough air for now.   
  
Dean had stuck a cassette on sometime in the past five minutes- really- who used cassettes anymore?- and the car sped down another highway. It was some rock band, he guessed- John had been fond of the same genre, and Adam wouldn't say he didn't hold a fondness for it himself, but when his musing was so dark, the music was unwanted. It just bought up more bad memories. Dean had it at such a screeching volume Adam couldn't ignore it even if he wanted to.

God, was he tired.  
  
He wasn't subjected to the music for that long, however, as not even another ten minutes later, Dean stopped the music and sniffed.   
  
"Now I thought I was just imagining things first, but you guys can't tell me you don't smell that," he said.   
  
Adam, who'd been zoning out and maybe even on track to drifting off, blinked, and sat up.   
  
"What?" Sam asked, also sniffing.   
  
"I dunno man, it smells like bad food or somethin'. And I _know_ I got rid of the fast food we had in here already."  
  
Adam took a sneaky sniff of his own, and sure enough the faint whiff of vomit filled his nostrils.  
  
Huh.   
  
Clearly Sam hadn't been completely successful in getting his shoes clean before getting back in the car the night before. Whoops.  
  
Adam, who was sat behind Dean, had a perfect view of Sam right then. The realisation of what he was sniffing hit him the same time it did Adam, and he squirmed.  
  
"What?" asked Dean, shooting a look over at him.  
  
"I don't smell anything," Sam lied. _Lied!_  
  
Adam bit back a smirk and rolled his window back down a crack, sinking down in his seat and getting comfortable.   
  
_Karma_ , man.  
  
He leaned back and let his eyes slip shut.  


† † †

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like... it's two days after a Wednesday... like… 3 years later than I planned to update? Wuh. I'm sorry. I don't really know what to say aside from that my mental health got the better of me and I was kind of out of commission for a while. I'm a bit better now… things still fluctuate, but it's slow improvement. I'll update as regularly as I can between my health, motivation, and my last year of uni and subsequent career moves? Luckily I found half this chapter already written, so I had something to start off from after the long break. I'm not sure if any of my original readers are still here, but if you are, you have my sincerest apologies. This chapter was wayyyyy way overdue. It's short, but it's something. I have 4k of the next one done, too. Til next time :) Happy new year!


	11. Chafing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: 'Supernatural' is the property of Warner Brothers, the CW, and other associated parties. I claim no ownership of the franchise, characters or settings, nor am I affiliated with the above parties in any way. The following is a fan-work, written for my amusement, and not for material or monetary gain. Please support the official releases. (I don't own this).

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**Coalescence**

By Payce D. Elui

**Chapter 11: Chafing**

† † †

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When they reached the town where Carver – Chuck - lived, the first place they hit was a comic book shop. The Winchester's bought every _single_ copy of the _Supernatural_ series the store held. Adam found it amusing at first- especially when Dean started to get shirty with the sales assistant. Adam hadn't found it as amusing when three big boxes of the books (that were _not_ big sellers, apparently) were squashed into the back seats of the Impala with him because the trunk was too small to hold them all.

...The trunk of the Impala was big enough to hold _dead bodies_ \- that there wasn't enough space for all the books implied that their sales really _were_ dire. He wondered how Max had even got into them.

Adam grit his teeth as Dean steered the car rather violently around the next corner and the boxes in the back piled into him.

... Seemed his snarking at the comic book shop had not gone unheard, if Dean's smirking at Adam's predicament was anything to go by.

† † †

"Name?"

"DeYoung, thanks."

Adam, who had been milling around with two of the book boxes in hand, looked up.

The concierge passed over a card machine and Dean pulled out a credit card.

The payment went through quickly enough and Dean was left with a receipt that he absentmindedly stuffed into his back pocket.

The exchange went amicably. Hell, it was the most amicable that Adam had ever seen Dean, though that might have had something to do with the concierge being a pretty little blonde.

Still, it was time to go. His arms were aching for relief.

Only Dean didn't get the key to the room straight off. He stayed to flash another grin at the receptionist, and Adam rolled his eyes as she slid a piece of paper with her number on it across the desk.

Two minutes and a lot of giggling later, Adam was at the end of his tether. Normally, he wasn't one to get in the way of someone trying to score, but he was getting progressively more and more uncomfortable playing the third wheel.

Adam cleared his throat. Loudly.

Dean threw him a dirty look, and Adam withheld a smirk as the concierge reddened, finally taking notice of him.

"Oh, of course! Here's your key-" she reached for a cupboard under the desk and thrust the key at Dean, who tossed it atop the boxes in Adam's hands.

"Oh, don't wait up for me- here, let me get the door for ya," he drawled.

He promptly shoved Adam out of the room.

"There we go, champ!"

"Bite me," Adam grumbled.

"It's room 28!" the concierge called after him.

Dean gave him a wink and a smirk, and then shut the door to the lobby in Adam's face.

_Asshole._

Adam trudged along and Sam joined him along the way. The younger Winchester was carrying not two, but _four_ boxes, with two tucked under each arm. He didn't look to be straining under the weight one whit.

"Dean?" Sam asked.

"Receptionist," Adam sighed.

"Ha, right." Sam said, rolling his eyes. "Should have known."

Sam trotted up, falling into step with him. As covertly as he could, Adam side-eyed him.

He really didn't know them.

Sam didn't look it, but maybe under all the plaid, he was as ripped as the 'Supernatural' book's cover implied-

-and he stopped himself there. That was a mental image Adam _did not_ need. He grimaced.

"All right?" Sam asked, noticing the change in expression.

"Uh- yeah," Adam said hastily. Sam _did not_ need to know the thoughts that had just passed through his head. He hefted the boxes higher. "Heavy."

Sam smiled. If it wasn't just a little condescending, Adam would have eaten his own hat (if he had one). "You need any help?"

Adam look bemused. Now Sam was just showing off. "What- you gonna carry it on your head? I'd pay to see that, ya know." Sam's hands were already busy, after all.

"Ha- no," Sam laughed, "I-"

"We're here," Adam interrupted, setting his boxes down.

He grabbed at the keys and slid them into the lock, twisting and pushing the door open. Adam waved Sam in, bending down to pick up the boxes once again and then moving to join him in the room. His brow wrinkled as he took in the decor.

And then he realised the immediate problem that had arisen.

"Two beds?" he asked, dumping the boxes on the one closest to him.

"Hm?" Sam looked up. He was holding another of the books up, having cranked his own boxes open.

"I'll go get my own room?"

"What?" Sam looked confused. "Why?"

"There's two beds, Sam," Adam repeated, arching a brow.

"Yeah..." Sam said slowly in the tone of someone who failed to see the problem. "For me and Dean and-"

Adam could practically see the lightbulb go off above Sam's head.

"Oh."

Adam nodded. "Right. It's fine." He stood, rolling his shoulders. "I'm gonna go get my own room, then-"

"What's happening?" Dean strolled into the room, waving a piece of paper in Sam's direction with a smirk. Sam rolled his eyes, his lips quirking upward. Same old Dean.

"Two beds, Dean."

"Yeah, so?"

Sam stared at him, watching with satisfaction as Dean looked between him and Adam before his eyebrows drew up slightly in surprise.

Dean shrugged. "No rooms with three beds- can't be picky at a motel, man. Besides," he shrugged, "there's a couch."

"Or I could just get my own room," said Adam.

"No," Dean said quickly.

Adam frowned. "I'll get the one next door- it's no big d-"

"Yeah, no. You're staying in here, kid."

Seeing Adam's affronted expression, Sam's positively wilted. Yet another argument between his two brothers was going to kick off, it was disheartening.

"Then I hope you and Sam've made plans on spooning because I'm sure as hell not sleeping on that thing," Adam snapped.

"We'll swap out," Dean said roughly.

"Seriously, what the hell is your problem?"

"I got no problem. And I got no problem kicking your ass back to school if I have to, kid, so you-"

"Dean," said Sam softly.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"We agreed you'd do what we said if you were gonna come here," Dean said in a strained voice, "and we're saying you're staying here. House rules on a hunt- you _stay together_. Especially when you're worse than a rookie. It's safer."

"A family that 'slays' together stays together?" Adam quipped sarcastically.

"You got a problem with that then you're done here." Dean stared him down.

Adam looked between the two Winchesters, irritation plain over his face, before he let out a stilted breath and looked away. "You're taking the couch."

"Anything for you, sweetpea," Dean drawled.

 

† † †

 

There were books lying all over the motel room come evening. Adam had pointedly stayed sitting on the bed, leaving the couch to Dean. It was childish, but the older man didn't say a word, too engrossed in the novel in his hands.

The Winchesters had taken a stack of books each to delve into them. The aim of the whole objective was to see how accurate they were in portraying their lives, and they had been most silent for the last three hours, aside from an irritated _"huh"_ for Sam every now and then, or an exasperated _"oh come ON"_ from Dean. Adam had taken to finishing the novel that Max had given him, and finished it, he had.

He looked up from beneath his lashes, staring at his mammoth of a brother across the room. So Sam had been content to leave the world of hunting behind until the same demon that got his mother got his girlfriend?

That was harsh. He swallowed, glancing between the two Winchesters. Personal tragedies, it seemed, ran in the family.

"This is freakin' INSANE!" Dean suddenly cried out. He tossed the book down in anger, glaring at it as if he had the power to set it aflame. A few hours prior he'd taken to surfing the web for more information when the information in the books got too much, and he slammed the lid to the laptop down in irritation. Sam had confiscated the machine then, and was perched by the window, researching.

"This guy- he has everything. And I mean _everything._ The racist truck- the sex- I'm full frontal here, dude." Dean shuddered. "I feel violated."

"Yeah, and you just took us down there with you, thanks buddy," Adam mumbled.

Dean spared him a Look.

"How the hell does he know this stuff?" Dean asked, sounding like a man at the end of his tether.

"Beats me," said Sam, sounding mildly amused at his brother's plight.

"How _didn't_ we know about this?" Dean growled. "You'd have thought someone we know knew about this. This is our life!"

"Well dad did kinda keep himself to himself," Sam reasoned.

"The books have a pretty small following," Adam said, feeling like he should contribute. 'Small' was an understatement of gigantic proportions. He knew that much from his research back which he'd been waiting for the Winchesters. Hell, the fact Max even knew about them was surprising. They were one heck of a tiny niche.

"Yeah, almost zero publication," said Sam nodding at him. He was studied the laptop again for a moment, before sending Dean another 'subtle' look. "Last book published ended, ah-" he shot a quick look at Adam before looking back at Dean, "-right before we met Castiel?"

Dean's nostrils flared.

"No kidding."

Sam made a face.

"Lemme see that," said Dean, striding across the room and turning the laptop towards him.

Adam looked between the two brothers with a frown on his face.

"Who's Castiel?"

The Winchesters ignored him.

"We have fans?" asked Dean. "The books do, anyways." He was scanning the webpage intently, the laptop screen giving off a dim glow that trailed shadows over his face.

"Mm," Sam hummed noncommittally. "Not a lot of them, though."

"'The demon story line is trite, clichéd, and overall craptastic,'" Dean mumbled, reading over what he'd found. " _Simpatico?_ Yeah? What a bundle of sunshine he is. Screw him, we lived it."

"Keep going," Sam prompted. Adam watched the two of them with detached interest. He grabbed book two from the top of a nearby pile of books.

"Sam girls? Dean girls?"

"No Adam girls, though," Sam said.

"Yeah, well story hasn't got to him yet," said Dean. "We're keeping it that way."

Adam raised a brow. "I dunno, having fans doesn't seem like the worst thing that could come out of this."

"Trust me, Adam, you don't want these kinds of fans," Sam mumbled.

"Slash fans?" Dean read. "What, like the rocker?" Dean tilted his head, nodding. "Could be worse." He moved the curser over a link and Sam made a face.

"What?" said Dean doggedly, his keen sense of danger flaring at the expression.

"Not that kinda slash," Sam muttered.

"Uh?"

"Slash as in Sam-slash-Dean. Together."

There was an awkward pause as the three of them took in that information. Suddenly Adam was exceedingly glad that no mysterious author had their hands on his life story. When this case was dealt with, they never would. As long as it wasn't happening to him, though... it was freaking hilarious.

He snickered.

Sam was the one who shot him a glare this time.

"As in... _together_ , together?" asked Dean in the guise of a man who was hoping beyond belief that he was wrong.

"Yup."

"They- they do know we're brothers, right?"

"Doesn't look like that matters to anyone. They call it... Wincest."

"Ha, that's pretty clever," Adam said. This story was going from intriguing to pretty funny, pretty fast,

"Oh. Oh, come on," Dean said weakly, face losing colour. "That... That's just sick."

Adam lost it, laughing long and loud. It was too much for Dean, who slammed the lid of the laptop down again. Fortunately for Dean, Sam was much too preoccupied with his irritation to spare another glare for his wounded technology.

"We need to find this guy _now_ ," Dean growled.

 

† † †

 

Armed with knowledge of the author's real name, it was easier enough to track down his address. Early Saturday morning, the three men traipsed over the still dewy lawn in front of a patch of utterly suburban houses and headed for the right one.

"Who's Castiel?"

Sam was deferring to Dean on that one- he looked a little guilty at withholding information- blatantly in front of Adam, anyway, but Dean brushed Adam off with a bland "no-one you need to worry about." Adam had no time to get irritated at that, for Dean was talking again.

"Right- you stay behind us, and don't call attention to yourself," Dean said, glancing around to survey the street. He double-checked the weight of the gun at his back, wincing when he pulled at a sore muscle; true to his word the night before, he'd taken the couch. Not that Adam had given him a choice- he'd resolutely refused to move an inch, and nothing short of manhandling him would have done anything.

_"You alright, Dean?" Sam had asked, tucking down himself at some time around four in the morning. The question was one of concern, but the tone most definitely wasn't._

"Shut up, Sam," Dean had grumbled. The couch squeaked as he tried to get comfortable.

"Think he's a psychic?" Sam asked offhandedly.

"Who knows," Dean muttered.

"They actually exist?" Adam didn't know why he was so surprised.

"Hell yeah," Sam said. "Dean we should take him to see Missouri, I think she'd have fun with him." He paused. "Come to think of it, you'd have thought _she_ would have mentioned-"

"We're not taking him to see Missouri," interrupted Dean.

"What if I want to meet Missoui?" said Adam.

Both Sam and Dean shot him doubtful looks at that.

"So, maybe a psychic," said Sam. "Maybe a hunter. Bobby heard anything?"

"Nope."

"Maybe you should just knock and- you know- _see_ ," cut in Adam, fed up once again, of the byplay. Dean frowned at him, sighed, and shot a look at Sam. Shrugging at one another, the Winchesters rang the doorbell.

A few moments later, the door creaked open and a peaky looking man in a bed robe peered out.

"Yeah?"

"You Chuck Shurley?" asked Dean.

"The Chuck Shurley who wrote the 'Supernatural' books?" asked Sam.

"Maybe," said the man, glancing between then, before shooting a quick look over between then at Adam. He pursed his lips. "Why?"

"I'm Dean. This is Sam," Dean said, pointing at himself and Sam respectively. "Yeah- the same Sam and Dean you've been writing about. Wanna explain that?"

Chuck rolled his eyes and slammed the door in Dean's scowling face.

"That went well," said Adam. He ignored the dig of the elbow Sam levered into him.

Dean ignored him, rapping on the door angrily. It swung open again.

"Look it's not that I don't appreciate hearing from the fans. Really, the enthusiasm is, uh... Something," the irritated looking Chuck mumbled, glancing between the three men in front of him, "but there's such a thing as taking things too seriously. I, uh... Strongly suggest you get a life." He made to shut the door once again, but almost quicker than Adam could process, Dean had forced his way through the doorway and into the house.

"Yeah, see, we were fine minding our own until you started writing about it," said Dean. Chuck had backed up, and was looking a little frightened. Adam didn't blame him, he was faced with two giant Winchester beefcakes towering over him.

"This isn't funny," Chuck tried.

"I look like I'm laughing?" Dean asked.

Sam put a hand on Dean's shoulder, making him ease off a little. "Look man, we just wanna know how you're doing it. You a hunter?"

"What?" Chuck spluttered, "no!"

"Then who you been talking to? How is it that you know- everything? You better start talking pal," Dean said, the tone clearly implying that if Chuck didn't start talking, he'd be in for a world of pain.

"Look, I don't- I'm a writer. Get out of my house. Who are you people? Is this a _misery_ thing?"

"We are _not_ fans," Dean said loudly. "Believe me."

"Well then what do you want? Who are you?" There was a distinct air of panic wrapped around Chuck's voice, and Adam felt bad for him.

"I'm Adam," he said, giving a sardonic wave, coming up alongside Dean and deftly sliding between his brother and the panicked writer. Chuck sure as hell didn't look like he was anything supernatural, and Adam wasn't sure he was inclined on joining the Winchesters inflict pain on a _human being._ That definitely wasn't in the job description. Though, just to be sure…

"Christo."

Dean swore loudly. If anything, Chuck looked even more fearful.

"What is _going_ on?!"

Adam turned to look at his brothers. "Not a demon. So no manhandling."

"No shit," Dean drawled. "Really?"

Adam rolled his eyes, turning back to Chuck. "So I'm Adam. Adam Milligan. I guess you know that, right? And this is Sam and Dean Winchester."

"They're fictional! They're not real!"

"Oh, we're real, buddy, and we ain't happy," Dean snapped.

 

† † †

 

Chuck tried to bribe them with books, and then with signed posters, but it had been Dean wrangling him out to the Impala and popping the trunk that had started him on the track to believing. He was sitting in a weathered armchair, alternating between taking large gulps of whiskey, and staring owlishly at the three brothers. They stared back at him.

"So… I'm God?" Chuck asked suddenly, sitting straighter in his chair. "Because that's the only way this makes sense. I write things and I make them happen."

"You're not God," said Sam. "We've met angels. I think we'd know if you were God."

"You've met angels?" asked Adam. That was new information.

"Ah, so you've met Castiel… I haven't even published anything about him yet."

"Castiel's an angel?" asked Adam. "Angels are a thing too? You could have told me there was good with the bad, guys, that might have been nice to know."

"I wouldn't say they were _good_ ," Dean muttered.

"I am a cruel, capricious God," Chuck said, ignoring them all, and sounding devastated. "I've put you through so much. I killed your parents. I killed Sam's girlfriend. I killed Adam's mom."

"Just shut up, already," Adam snapped. "You're drunk. You didn't kill my mom. The ghoul did."

"Because I made it. I wrote it!" Chuck cried. "You're were real the whole time. I was gonna kill you too, you know, but-"

"Don't finish that sentence," Dean snapped. Sam was right at his back, his initial curiosity melting into something colder.

"-I changed my mind, figured it was bad writing, you know? Introduce a new character and then kill him off, oh, _no-one's seen that before_." Chuck didn't seem to realise the danger he was in. "So edgy. Enough with the angst, you know? I know the fans love it, but. Well. I changed my mind. New character, change things up, reconfigure the dynamic. Figured things were getting a bit stale."

Adam backed up. He felt sick. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Dean had heard enough, grabbing the scrawny man by the lapel and cutting him off. "Shut. Up."

"This isn't funny," said Adam quietly. "Did he kill my mom? Was he responsible?"

"No," said Dean.

"Yes!" said Chuck.

Dean pushed the inebriated man away in disgust. "You're not God."

"Probably just a psychic," added Sam, frowning at the man.

"I wouldn't be writing if I were a psychic. Writing is _hard_ ," said Chuck, grabbing a manuscript off of the table Dean had shoved him into. "Just. Look. I wrote this before you got here, right? I wrote this first, and you came here after. I'm _God._ It's the only explanation."

"That's not an explanation!" Adam snapped.

"Read it," said Chuck, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. He was back to ignoring them, and muttering to himself. "Such repetitive, bad writing. I made you guys live through that. I _killed_ people. For entertainment! I'm a monster."

"For the last time," Sam said, through gritted teeth. "Chuck. You're not God."

 

† † †

 

"I'm kinda feeling like Chuck might be God," said Adam. "You know. From my limited experience of things."

"No," snapped Dean. He had yet to relinquish Chuck's manuscript. The three of them had left Chuck for the night, with a warning telling him not to go anywhere. They were planning on returning in the morning, giving the man a chance to sober up before they really went looking for answers.

"This is so wild," said Dean. "I'm sitting here in a motel room, reading about myself sitting in a motel room reading about myself. My head hurts."

"Sounds boring as hell," said Adam, from one of the beds. "If this is the kinda stuff you guys get up to, no wonder the books aren't selling well." He'd claimed it for himself as soon as they'd made it back to the room. He didn't really know what to think about this whole situation. It was easy to rely on sarcasm, simpler than thinking about what had occurred earlier. Chuck may have been drunk, but the words had set him on edge. _"I was gonna kill you too."_ Like it all came down to a writing decision of some shoddy two-bit drunk.

"There has to be something that guy isn't telling us," said Sam, from somewhere across the room. Adam heard the other bed creak.

"Sam flipped his pillow, laying down for the night. He was starting to have doubts about Chuck, about whether he was telling the whole truth." Dean looked up from the manuscript. "Ah?"

"Ok," said Sam. "That's just disturbing."

"Adam lay in his bed, ignoring his new relatives. He was still preoccupied with thoughts of Chuck's unintentionally cruel words, earlier that day. He was pulled from his thoughts, as he heard Dean mention his name in the manuscript. If Dean didn't stop narrating his thoughts as they occurred, Adam would– _woah._ Not cool, man," Dean said, glaring across at Adam, who had stiffened in his bed. "And really violent."

"Shut up, Dean," Adam said.

"Dean watched him brood, seeing echoes of Sam in this new found brother."

"DEAN." Both Adam and Sam were glaring at him now, and Dean held his hands up in surrender.

"I'm just saying. Even this guy notices it. The brooding, I mean."

He turned back to the manuscript. "… you both just thought I was a dick."

"Wow," said Sam. "He _is_ good."

† † †

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this was lifted from the episode The Monster at the End of the Book, of course, credits to the original writers. This is a bit samey, because of the plot of this particular episode? The changes here and in the next chapter are a little more subtle than I'd hoped, and I can understand if that annoys you guys a bit. Trust me, I don't like canon rehash or novelisation too much either. But bear with me, next chapter is a lot more focussed on Adam, and after that, the changes should be more prevalent.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review or comment! I was so amazed to see so many returning readers, it's been really humbling. I really appreciate it, guys. Thank you.


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